Red Letters
by celtic-dreamscape-94
Summary: Post-Season Two - Red John is ready to offer up Kristina. Patrick will follow the clues that are given unquestioningly, but does he really know what he's in for? More Jisbon than Jane/Kristina really.
1. The Letter

_**A/N: Ok, this is a huge achievement to be able to post a new story. I haven't been able to write out my ideas for aggggeeees. And it's been really frustrating. But here it is. My new story. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review at the bottom.**_  
_**And before you ask, no, I don't own the Mentalist. Although I like to think I do...**_

**_Set after the Season 2 finale. As will mention in story._**

1. The First Letter.

If you had been stood in my room as I slept that night, you would have thought that I would be having happy dreams. My breathing was steady, calm, and my skin was clear, with no sweaty sheen to make the streams of moonlight sparkle as they poured through the window. But truthfully, there was nothing to be found in my dreams except terror and violence, that I would never be able to rid myself of. I was cursed, and had been for the past eight years. I wasn't about to deny that it was my fault, because it was. All mine. Nobody else contributed to the state I was in. But the thing was, the recently past events, where my sorry life had been saved by the person who I most resented, the person who had put me in this misery to start with, Red John, hadn't at all managed to divert my thoughts as I dreamt. Kristina Frye's disappearance... I just thought that maybe it would create enough of a puzzle to take my mind off my troubles for awhile. But I guess that was wishful thinking. My life wouldn't be a punishment if I could take my mind of those things.

So as the dream, or nightmare, as that would be the more fitting name, proceeded, I looked nothing more than the pure state of peace, and I never knew why. I never woke up with my duvet tangled around my limbs, sticking to my skin like wet paper towel. Never awoke to the unbearable heat leaking from every inch of my body, like I was a radiator. Maybe it was the fact that I had hidden my insufferable pain for so many years now, that I couldn't even show it when I was unconscious. I barely slept at all because of the wounds I had sustained all those years ago. But this was one of those rare nights, where I would drift reluctantly into a deep sleep, because I just _could not_ carry on any longer without recharging my energy. But energy came at a price. Each of these nights, I would be taunted, haunted, by these nightmares. It would cause tears to roll down my cheeks as I awoke to the early morning sun. It would cause the scars to tear open and sting for days until I relapsed back into the person I usually was. I knew it all too well as I drifted into these sleeps...

_I could see my wife, my daughter, in the lens of that camera, which was pointing at my face, parading me to the world through a small piece of glass. Yet I couldn't stop the words from falling from my lips. I felt like I was being sick, choking over the syllables as they forced their way out._

'_He's an ugly..._

_-CRACK-_

_... Tormented..._

_-CRACK-_

_... Little man..._

_-CRACK-_

_...A lonely soul..._

_-CRACK-_

_...Sad, very sad.'_

_And the camera lens shattered into a thousand pieces, showering glass fragments in all directions, slicing my face, punishing me. My tears were of blood, and every beat of my heart rang inside my head like a shot from a gun. I knew it was all over. And as I was suddenly transported to the bedroom, the room which I was asleep in right now, I saw them. I saw Angela sheltering our daughter, trying to protect her. I could see the tears pouring down both of their faces as the madman drew in closer, drawing his knife. It glinted in the moonlight as he waved it tauntingly. _

_I could hear Charlotte's screams, the frightened noises of a small child facing death. I could see it all. Every inch of panic in their souls, every ounce of evil that weighed down Red John's heart, not one iota of sympathy. Kristina Frye's words meant nothing, my daughter was_ _awake. She did wake up. She knew what was happening. Yet I could not move, could not do one thing to save the two most precious people in my entire world. I was pressed and tied back to the wall with my own words. The mocking, insulting words that I had shot straight at Red John's heart surrounded me, glowing like embers and leaving crisscrossed scars across my body. I heard my tears drip, drop, on the floor beneath my feet. As their screams began to fill the air around me, I could feel my soul burning away like a wicker man... _

And as I burst apart, my lungs aching and my heart being crushed, I awoke, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide. The familiar tears began to crawl down my cheeks, brushing past my ears as they sank into my hair, dampening the curls. I shut my eyes as they stung, pushing out another flow of fat salty tears, hot against my clammy skin. I sat up, hurriedly clearing them away as if a crowd of people were watching. My face was striped by the early morning light steadily forcing its way through the gap in the curtains, making the streams of fresh tears twinkle gently. I sniffed, brushing the back of my hand across my sodden cheeks once more before getting to my feet. I knew that if I let myself lie in bed, curled up under my duvet, I would think about what I'd just seen and make myself ill with longing that things could have been different. So I had to get myself moving. Attempt to divert my mind.

I achieved a quick shower, only letting myself think about the hot droplets of water pummelling my back, massaging away the achiness of the night, before changing into my suit and sauntering downstairs. I saw a meagre pile of post underneath the letter flap, but couldn't be bothered to sort through it right now, going straight round to the kitchen where I posted a couple pieces of bread untidily into the toaster. Pushing it down, I turned and slid down the smooth glass cupboard front to the floor. The cold of the tiles began to work their way up my spine as I sat there. I crossed my arms on my knees and rested my forehead on them. I took deep breaths and shut my eyes gently, feeling a soft throb inside my skull. I probably could have made serious use of a couple of paracetamol tablets, but I didn't have any. I didn't have anything to be honest. Nothing but a few pieces of cruddy food and the top most things which were vital to my survival, and somehow, after years of continuous headaches and migraines, I never thought of pain killers as a necessity.

I jumped as the toaster popped behind me, the scent of fresh toast reaching my nose. I pushed myself up and grabbed the pieces, slapping them on the side. Staring down at the two mildly browned pieces of bread, I snatched one up, leaving a small square of heat rippling on the work surface until it disappeared. I took a bite out of the dry toast and leant back on the side, resting my head back on the cupboards above whilst I worked the mouthful into a wad of warm dough inside my jaw. I didn't know why I was eating. I didn't feel like it. But I guess it was my common sense that was making me eat so I didn't starve myself. I'd had enough of that in rehab. I was _not _going back. But either way, I still couldn't bring myself to eat the rest of that toast, so I threw it aside along with the other piece to be sorted out later. I swiftly moved out into the main house and slipped into my shoes, scooping the post from the floor before making my exit.

Slipping into the old Citroen, I threw the envelopes into the passenger seat and twisted the key in the ignition, bringing the old timer engine to life with a small choke.

I pushed the handbrake down and slid down in my seat fractionally, breathing out heavily. I looked up at the CBI Headquarters before sighing and turning to the three letters in my car's passenger seat. Rubbing my eye, I picked up the top envelope, surveying the front and concluding it was junk before throwing it in the back. The same with the second. But the third was different. It was handwritten. The writing...somehow looked familiar to me, but I didn't know why. The slightly stained paper was only marked with 'Patrick'. I was curious now. My fake psychic senses were tingling. I flipped the small rectangular envelope over in my hand and ran my finger underneath the seal. The bright morning sun peeked over the top of the CBI building, twinkling on my Citroen's windshield as I slipped out the folded sheet of paper. Pushing the letter open, I began to read the softly faded writing. I think it was quite clear from how my stomach was doing back flips, followed by sickening twists that the colour was draining from my face as I read. I swallowed, finding my throat was parched and dry. My heart thumped, the rhythm like a full speed steam engine. I swallowed again, beginning the letter again.

After the fourth read through, I jumped out of the car, just about keeping balance on my legs, which had seemingly turned to jelly. I wobbled on the spot and slammed the door, shoving in the key and twisting it until the lock was rammed home. I sped across the car park to the entrance to the looming building before me. The letter was clutched tightly in my hand, the grip causing the paper to crumple slightly. My clothes seemed to fit tighter than they did this morning when I'd put them on, starting to compress me and cause discomfort. As I stepped into the elevator, pressing in the button for floor 3 a few too many times, I breathed in and out heavily. I shoved in the button once more as my impatience began to control me. The doors finally shut themselves and I was pulled upwards. My foot tapped the thinning carpet on the floor. I scratched the back of my neck, the speed of my short, slightly rough edged nails on the skin sending weird tingles down my back. I shook it out and marched out of the doors as soon as they pinged open, heading straight past the bullpen, where I would usually end up first thing, and made my unannounced entrance into Lisbon's office.

'Morning Jane,' she greeted me, without looking up, as she scrawled on an official looking piece of paper.

I didn't bother to reply, simply stepping forward and pushing the letter on top of whatever she was working on.

I heard her sigh as her pen disconnected with paper and she looked at the folded letter.

'What's that?'

I stepped forward impatiently and unfolded the letter for her, making it even easier for her.

'Read.'

She looked up at me questioningly, but when I gave her nothing more than an urgent look, she raised an eyebrow and settled her eyes on the page before her. I watched her, her jaw rested on one hand and a pen caught between her fingers, which slowly moved through her hair. Her green eyes went from left to right and back again, while my heart was beating out a heavy baseline. Without really registering it, I had begun to pace back and forth across her office, waiting for her to finish reading.

'Oh God,' I heard her mutter.

I recalled the words which I had read only moments before her.

_Dear Patrick,_

_For saving your life, I think I deserve something in return. So I went ahead and chose for you. And I must say, you've got good taste. I would get Kristina to say hi, but it's not nearly as effective when written. That and her hands are...tied.  
__So what do imagine she'll look like with a few thick, warm, droplets of blood running down her cheek? Maybe her neck...no, that would make things too short...  
__Hey, maybe if you make it to us in time, I'll let you choose. What do you say? You'll have to be quick though. I might not be able to stop myself..._

:)

I didn't know what on earth we were going to do. There were no clues included in the letter, no hint as to what we should do to find him in time. My heart was pounding in my ears.

'Liiisbon,' my voice rang out nervously, 'Say something useful! What are we going to do?'

'W...Well, we should get this to forensics. See if they can get any prints off it, apart from ours.'

I groaned. I knew, and she should by now, that Red John didn't make mistakes as simple as fingerprints. He would be wearing gloves the whole time.

'That's not gonna get us anywhere,' I complained.

'Well I don't know what else to do. This is all we've got,' Lisbon told me, quickly pulling out an evidence bag from her desk and slipping the letter inside, 'Was there an envelope?'

'Yeah, it just said 'Patrick'.'

'Where is it?'

'In the car.'

'Go get it,' Lisbon commanded me, sending me reluctantly from the office with a single look.

It had been a week since the events in Salinger Mill, and _over _a week since I'd last seen Kristina. Why did Red John wait so long to contact me? Had he been clearing up loose ends? Bringing the knife closer to Kristina's neck millimetre by millimetre for the past week?

I found myself at the car again, unlocking the door and snatching the envelope from the seat. I probably should have handled it more carefully, considering how Lisbon was about evidence, but I knew they'd find nothing. There would be no fingerprints, no hairs to scan through DNA. Red John was too efficient.

I took the envelope back to Lisbon, like a loyal retriever puppy, except I didn't want a pat on the head when I got there. I stepped inside her office again, and her phone began to blare through the space around us. I dumped the envelope in the open bag that Lisbon held out for me before she sealed it and gathered up the phone with one swift motion. I moved towards her couch while she replied to the other end of the line. I looked back over my shoulder as she said 'hello' more than twice, followed by 'Is anybody there?' And I knew it had to be Red John. I knew from the look on Lisbon's face that the only thing she could hear was the heavy breathing on the other end. I hurried back over and snatched the receiver.

'Hello?'

I ignored Lisbon's glare.

The line crackled with a snort of laughter.

'Hello..._Jane_,' my name was uttered as a whisper that sent chills down my spine. I could feel my limbs begin to quake softly. Whether it was the cold that was running through my body, or the anger I felt at the man, I didn't know.

'Enjoying...life?'

'Where's Kristina?' I butted in.

Another soft crackle of laughter.

'Now, now...let's...calm down.'

I gritted my teeth to stop myself from saying the wrong thing. His slick, smooth voice was edging its way between my bones, grinding them in a way that sent goosebumps creeping along my skin. I took a deep breath in, waiting for a reply.

'Good...now. Listen carefully,' he whispered into my ear, 'Thirteen, Five, Nineteen, Seven, Zero.'

And then all I could hear was a series of clicks...and the dial tone.

**A/N: Reviews much appreciated :) Need to know whether it's worth continuing!**


	2. Numbers

_**A/N: Ok, so thanks so much for the lovely reviews I got last chapter, and here's the next one ^_^ Now I haven't had much time to check all this and make sure it sounds ok cos I wanted to get it published before I go away on holiday for two weeks, so here it is. Hope it's ok ^_^**_

Chapter 2. Numbers.

'What numbers did he say again?' Van Pelt asked, her hand resting on the corner of her desk as her swivel chair was turned to face me.

I let my head fall back into the couch cushion frustratedly with a heavy sigh. 'Thirteen, five, nineteen, seven and zero.'

Van Pelt echoed the numbers back, more repeating them to herself. My eyes twitched over briefly to see Rigsby and Cho looking slowly from me to Van Pelt. Lisbon stood leant against my desk, her legs crossed over and her fingers softly tapping the wood. Her head was bowed in thought, her dark hair like curtains, gently touching her cheeks.

'A seven digit number...' Van Pelt mused, 'What numbers have seven digits?'

'The ones with seven digits,' I mumbled. My chest was beginning to ache with the continuous heavy beat of my heart. While I knew that Kristina had thoroughly managed to piss me off before she'd gone missing, I knew we had to save her. I couldn't let Red John claim another victim.

'It could be a telephone number...' the young agent continued, 'Maybe it's a reference number...'

'To _what_? That number could be anything. I don't think we're going to find out by suggesting all the things it could be. If we do that we'll be cleaning up a corpse.'

Van Pelt looked a little taken aback, 'I was just trying to think of the options, Jane.'

'What do you suggest we do then?' Lisbon asked me.

'I don't know,' I replied weakly, 'Just...give me a minute.'

'For what?'

'To think!'

I closed my eyes, pushing my head into the padding of the couch a little more. My fingers trailed lightly over my forehead. My brain was aching. There were too many things that the number could represent, and we were on a limited clock. I didn't know how long we had. I knew that Red John wouldn't harm her straight away. He would wait for me to find at least a few more clues before he began to move forward. But still...the clock was ticking.

'You called me, Lisbon?' I heard Madeline Hightower's voice ring through the silence. Great. Someone else to start asking me repeatedly what I'd been told. Her loud, high-heeled footsteps telling me she was stood next to Lisbon. I heard Lisbon shift slightly.

'There's been a new development in the Red John case. Jane got a letter this morning.'

'From...Red John?'

'Yes.'

I could feel Hightower look at me worriedly, a look which wondered whether I was ok. I didn't open my eyes, or move my lips to reply. I was trying to think.

'What did it say?'

The rustle of an evidence bag. Lisbon handing it over. She hadn't given it over to forensics yet because Hightower needed to see it first. The silence that followed was a little uncomfortable as Hightower read through the words on the paper, right down to the red smiley face at the bottom. I could see it perfectly, like I was reading it for the first time.

'This needs to go to forensics,' Hightower said.

'Yeah, just about to do that,' Lisbon replied.

'Good.'

She gave me another look.

'And we got a phone call from him as well,' Lisbon informed her.

'Yes?'

'He gave Jane five numbers and hung up.'

Hightower attempted to address me, '...Jane?'

I ignored, beginning to form a mental picture of the numbers, lining them up in my mind's eye, hoping that visualizing them might help. 13, 5, 19, 7, 0.

'Jane?'

I heard her whisper 'Is he ok?' to Lisbon.

Maybe the numbers were a code. There were so many codes that included numbers... but I could try the most simple...numbers to letters of the alphabet?

Thirteen...M? Yes, M.

Five was E.

S...and G.

Mesg? No. Unless Red John couldn't count the letters of the alphabet properly, that wasn't it. Oh...but wait...what if...

Keeping the E and the S in mind, I counted thirteen and seven from the end of the alphabet for the letters on each end of the word.

My eyes shot open and I looked around at everyone...who were looking at me a bit worriedly.

'I've got it,' I announced.

'...You do?' Lisbon replied, her eyebrows creasing together slightly. I briefly noted for no apparent reason that her hands were now in her pockets.

'Thirteen, Five, Nineteen and Seven. N, E, S, T. Nest.'

'Nest!' Rigsby declared triumphantly, hitting the desk with his fist, causing Van Pelt to jump slightly. '...What does that mean?'

My face contorted with thought. 'Nest...nest...nest,' I murmured quietly. 'A house...a home?'

'What relevance does that have?' Lisbon enquired, narrowing her eyes.

'Well, that's where he and Kristina could be. His home.'

'And how, do you suppose, are we going to find his house when we have no information about him at all?' Lisbon asked, putting a downer on my mood.

'Lisbon. Don't burst my bubble. I'm figuring it out.'

Five minutes later I was still trying to ignore what Lisbon had said. There had to be _some _way we could figure this out. I mean, how hard could it be? I was clever. Very clever. My brain could handle the task of figuring out where a mysterious serial killer, whom we had no current, real information about, grew up...yes...

I groaned inwardly.

* * *

'So, when do you think Mr. Jane will figure out the first...second clue? I mean, I didn't make it that hard, did I?'

Kristina didn't seem to even dare turn her tearful eyes to look me. I sat beside her, trailing my hardened, callused finger across the blade of the knife I had grasped in my fist. I heard a soft moan echo weakly from her dry, cracked lips, where a gag parted them. I revelled in the fear I had brought to this woman, knowing that it would bring Patrick Jane running. I flipped the knife and balanced it on my index finger perfectly. I leant forward, causing my chair to creak slightly under my shifting weight. I pushed Kristina's chin up with the flat edge of the blade and surveyed the emotion that she conveyed to me through the look in her reddened eyes. She didn't seem to want to let the tears escape. They pooled behind her lower lashes, threatening to, but never over spilling. I brought my thumb up roughly and pulled at the flesh beside her eye, causing the tears to fall from the glistening green pools. She sobbed weakly as the moisture tumbled down her cheek. I sat back, letting her head fall again.

'I need ideas. What do you think should happen when he gets here?' I asked her, starting to fiddle with my knife again. 'I could...shoot him as he comes through the door...though that would defeat the object of killing off those students for him...and what would I do then? If he was dead? No, that won't work. I could kill _you _as he comes through the door. Well that seems a little pointless. I might get caught... What was that Kristina?' I leant forward looking up through the curls of hair that lay each side of her face, 'You think I should kill you beforehand and leave before he gets here so his whole effort was pointless?'

I leant back into my chair, nodding, holding my dulled knife up to the light. 'Interesting.'

Kristina whimpered. I could almost _feel _the beat of her heart as it became panic-stricken.

* * *

'There's got to be another meaning behind the numbers,' I told myself. Red John wouldn't have left a clue that was simply of _no _use to me. I had begun to pace the floor before my desk. My shoes squeaked as the soles rolled over the floorboards. Hightower had left to sort out the forensics and return to her paperwork, but I could tell that the repetitive sound of rubber on wooden panels was becoming irritating to Lisbon, Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho. They were all sat at their desks except Lisbon, who sat at mine, her feet up on the work surface. I could see she was twirling a pencil between her fingers, and she gave out a low huff as she watched my stride.

'Come on Lisbon, think of anything else those numbers could mean,' I encouraged her.

She sighed. 'I don't know.'

'Think!'

'What do you think I've been doing for the past half hour? Slowly letting my brain stagnate?'

'Could have fooled me...' I muttered.

She glared at me, but I continued to pace, unfazed.

'Five numbers...seven digits,' I murmured. While I hadn't included the zero in my code deciphering, it had to have _some _relevance. Maybe it was put on the end to be able to give another side to the code.

'What has seven digits, Lisbon?'

She shrugged pathetically. 'I don't know...a date?'

I stopped pacing and looked at her blankly.

'What?'

'13th May 1970?'

'Yeah...?'

'What would have happened forty years ago?'

'I'm no fountain of knowledge Jane, stop looking at me like that.'

I averted my gaze to Van Pelt and commanded her to type the date into the computer search engine. Maybe the all knowing internet would provide an answer. I perched myself on the edge of my desk, tapping my foot on the floor with an impatient rhythm.

'No, nothing I can see,' Van Pelt told me.

'Hmm...maybe we should ask the Quantum Lords? They're bound to know,' Lisbon murmured. I could tell she had one of those bemused smirks on her face.

'Don't be silly Lisbon,' I replied seriously, recalling the case where we had to deal with the mental patient.

'...Sorry.'

I could still hear the smirk in her voice though.

'We could...check the FBI database,' Van Pelt suggested, 'For possible crimes or birth records from that day.'

'See, Lisbon. Our Junior Agent has better suggestions than you...' I told Lisbon, 'And she clearly recognises that the Quantum Lords don't exist.'

'Ha. Ha.' Lisbon muttered.

I looked over my shoulder to see her cross her arms frustratedly. It was the first time I smiled since receiving the letter from Red John.

'O...kayyy,' Van Pelt murmured, logging into the FBI database and typing in the search criteria, 'For the thirteenth of May 1970...oh wow...'

Everyone leant forward in their seats.

'What?' I asked promptly. When Van Pelt used that kind of tone, it meant a bad 'wow', not a good one. Van Pelt shook her head softly.

'Well...on that day, there was a huge homicide. Eight innocent people were gunned down on Knight's Parkway. It doesn't look like the case was ever closed...'

Silence filled the room for a few moments.

'Who were the victims?' I asked softly.

'Um... Jessica and Michael Lynn, John Sachs, Emelie Jose, Evelyn Immerson, Harrison and Jodie Guy, and Jonah Haig.'

'Did any of those have sons or daughters?'

'No...apart from Evelyn Immerson. She had a daughter, Alayna.'

I heard a gentle sigh melt from Van Pelt's lips. 'She was only six...no one should have to lose their mother that young.'

And suddenly something struck. Something I had heard. It was more than a ringing bell, it was a crashing cymbal.

_Tyger, Tyger burning bright...in the forests of the night..._ but it wasn't night that Red John had meant. It was Knight. Knight's Parkway. Something terrible, violent, had happened in Knight's Parkway, something nobody was ever supposed to forget.

'Lisbon?'

'Yes?'

'Um, you know when I said that Red John didn't say anything when we met?'

'Yeah...'

'I was lying.'

'That figures.'

'Why?'

'Because you always lie.'

'Not always,' I replied indignantly.

Lisbon snorted with laughter. I scowled.

'_Any_way...' I diverted the conversation back to its original purpose quickly.

'Mhm.'

'He whispered the first two lines of a William Blake poem to me.'

I looked back at Lisbon's perplexed expression. 'The Tyger.'

'O...kay,' she replied slowly.

'_Tyger, Tyger burning bright in the forests of the night_,' I recalled to her, 'I think he meant Knight's Parkway.'

Lisbon nodded slowly, bringing her legs down from the desk, 'So...that was the first clue?'

'I guess so.'

'Which you withheld from us?'

'Well...yeah. I thought it meant something else.'

'What, you thought you'd figured out who, or where Red John was?'

'...Possibly.'

'And so you thought you would go find him all on your own?'

'Well...'

She stared at me for a moment, before she brought two fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose. Her hand then ran through her hair, causing her fringe to lie awkwardly across her forehead.

'God, you're not a superhero, Jane!' she spoke frustratedly, 'I wish you would learn that! You know full well what happened the last time you went after him on your own,' Lisbon was starting to get angry. I couldn't really figure out the reason. I hadn't actually done anything. Maybe she was just...on her time of the month or something.

'You nearly got yourself killed. I would've thought it had hit home. I would've thought you'd have respected what I'd said!'

'Um...Lisbon? I...haven't actually done anything yet.'

I heard a few coughs from behind me. I briefly looked over my shoulder.

'You would've done though, wouldn't you?'

'I...well...' Lisbon got up from her seat and began to leave, 'No! I wouldn't!' But it was already plain as daylight that she didn't believe me as she kept going towards her office. She was right though. I knew what I had been planning to do, and she'd read me like a book. Either I was losing my touch or I was becoming ignorant to how...ignorant I was becoming. I got up, briefly looking at the team before heading in the direction of Lisbon's office.

I think, for the first time, I actually stopped to knock before I dared enter. I knew she'd be even more angry...frustrated, if I simply walked in.

_Knock, knock._

There was a pause before I heard the words, 'Come in'.

I slowly pushed the door open and put a foot forward to enter.

'Oh, it's you,' she muttered, 'I thought it was someone else because you knocked... Go away.'

'Lisbon, I'm sorry...' I offered, stepping further into the office.

'Jane, you've only ever been sorry about one thing in your entire life. How do you expect me to believe you now?'

I let out a deep breath.

'You know how much this means to me, and how much people can get hurt. I never want you to get hurt because of what I am, and that's why I try and do it alone.'

'If you wanted to do it alone, why did you even bother joining the team? It's called a team for a reason. We work together. We look out for each other. I wish you could see that that's what we're trying to do for you as well.'

I bowed my head, scrutinizing the worn toe of my left shoe. Her tone softened as she continued.

'Look, I know how much this means to you. I know what lengths you're willing to go to. But I just _can't _let you do whatever you want! I don't know whether any of what I say will stick one day, but I'm going to keep telling you. No matter how much you think you can go it alone, you will always need someone. It doesn't matter what for. But I can guarantee that you will not survive to catch Red John if you continue to be so careless.'

I thought about it for a few seconds.

'...Ok.'

'Ok?'

I nodded. 'Ok.'

'I'm sorry; did you just accept what I said?'

I nodded again.

Lisbon looked at me suspiciously.

'Really?'

'Yes.'

'You're lying aren't you?'

'No, I'm not. I understand.'

Lisbon still looked a little unsure. 'So...you agree to work with us now, instead of against us?'

'Yes.'

'Ok...' she nodded decisively, 'Thank you.'


	3. Knight's Parkway

_**A/N: It's taken a while, but here's chapter 3. I was on holiday for two weeks, then I've been spending the last week trying to get into the rhythm of the new school year, but hey.**_

Chapter 3. Knight's Parkway.

I jumped from the black CBI SUV, my shoes landing on cracked, faded concrete with a slap. Slamming the heavy door behind me, I surveyed the street that stretched before the nose of the car.

Knight's Parkway.

The years had been unkind to what I knew had once been a sweet, idyllic place to live. Wide cracks that began at the toes of my shoes ran, criss-crossing, all the way along the road, right up until the last house. Dry, dead leaves tumbled across my path with the breeze as I stepped forward, the rustle of them and the sound of the breeze whistling in the fractured woodwork of the houses the only sounds. Creepers wound their way up the house walls, pulling apart the panels and devouring the structures whole. The roof tiles were crumbling, with plants beginning to poke out of the gaps.

I couldn't describe it, but there was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like...the fact that my feet were even touching this ground was bad luck. I swallowed down the dryness that the air had given my throat. Lisbon came to stand next to me, along with Cho and Van Pelt.

'Nice place,' Lisbon murmured.

Slowly, we began to make our way down the street. It felt like if we moved any faster, the whole place would come crumbling down around us.

I could tell that the three agents around me were getting ready to pull their gun at the slightest sign of movement from anywhere along the street. I knew that Red John wouldn't be here. It was too soon. And even if he had been here, he would be long gone.

'Number seven, yes?'

'Mhm...' Van Pelt answered.

'What makes you so sure the connection is with Evelyn Immerson?' Lisbon asked.

'Because she was the only one with a daughter, or child for that matter,' I replied, more concentrating on trying to look through the excessive amount of creepers and overgrown gardens that were covering the house numbers.

'Your point being?'

'I'll bet any money that Evelyn Immerson was Red John's grandmother, and Alayna Immerson is his mother.'

'But why would he give us a connection like that?'

'I don't know, Lisbon. I really don't know. But I can't imagine it's going to lead us anywhere. He's probably changed his name by now.'

Stood before me now...or stood crippled before me now was the slowly degrading structure of number seven.

'Here we are,' I murmured.

I placed my hand on the peeling white picket fence gate, ready to push it open and enter, when Lisbon suddenly stopped me.

'Wait! Jane. Don't you think one of us should go in first? We're armed. You're not.'

'He's not here Lisbon. He's gone,' I replied, looking back at her. She looked unconvinced though.

'I'd feel better if I wasn't watching you walk into a potential death trap.'

'I would say the same about you,' I replied stubbornly.

'Jane, come on. Just let one of us take the lead,' Van Pelt started. Cho remained surprisingly silent.

I huffed. 'Fine.' Reluctantly stepping back, Lisbon nodded at me. A sign of thanks.

I watched her step forward, trying the gate with her thigh before noting that the hinges where too rusted to move anywhere. At which point she took to kicking it down with the force of a small, vicious pony.

'Always the discreet,' I murmured.

'Shh,' she shot back at me, pulling her gun from the holster.

'Well I don't see any point in being quiet now. The sound of the gate being splintered probably alerted anyone to our presence.'

Lisbon ignored me and continued up the path, pushing branches out of the way one-handedly and trampling the undergrowth, keeping her CBI issue glock pointed steadily before her.

As soon as she reached the front door, I felt a nervousness begin to build in my stomach, and my pulse doubled. I wasn't even sure why. I knew nobody was going to be there...

But something...just something made me fearful of what might happen if Lisbon was stood at that door. I was suddenly itching to run forward and pull her back or something. Pull her back from what? Dry rot? My feet were twitching forward. I saw her reach for the door. I stepped up to the gate. She pressed her palm flat to the door. My hands went into my pockets and came out again, resting on the fence. She pushed the door wide open and I found myself jogging up to her.

'What?' she looked back at me, her gun still pointing ahead.

'Uh...nothing,' I replied quickly.

She frowned, and turned, beginning to walk into the crumbling remnants of the house. I took a deep breath, pulling myself back together, then followed Lisbon's trail.

Cho and Van Pelt shared a puzzled look before shrugging and moving forward themselves.

The heavily worn, and rotting floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I slowly manoeuvred around the house behind Lisbon. It was clear that someone had been in here. There were crushed shrubs lining the floor, and footprints in the thick layer of dirt visible through the plants. As Lisbon cleared each room, I peeked over her shoulder and studied the contents, looking for something, anything that would help us forward with finding Kristina. Nothing stuck out yet. Stepping back out into hall, spot-lit with light that trickled through the gaps in the ceiling above, I felt a sprinkle of something on my forehead. I looked up, rubbing my face over. There was a weakened section of plaster ceiling above my head that was still just about secured, not yet crashed through by a sprouting plant. I moved forward quickly, out of the zone which would eventually be crushed by the material above.

'Uh...Van Pelt, Cho? Watch that ceiling,' I warned the two agents behind me. They both looked up at the plaster that was giving them a snow-like sprinkling of dust. They swiftly moved out from underneath it.

'Jane?' Lisbon called.

I searched the area around me, wondering where she'd gone.

'Come in here.'

I followed the sound of her voice, and the smaller footprint trail in the dust, soon finding her in a small room off to the right, through an archway of shrubs. Stepping inside, I surveyed the room. I could imagine what the room possibly could have looked like, when the peeling, plain cream wallpaper had been new, and the ceiling had once been present. It would have been a study, judging by the dust covered desk in the corner, and the cabinets of old writing equipment and books. It would have been a history honey hive if the fungi and bugs hadn't got there first, gradually destructing everything that would have once compiled to a perfect, cosy, and welcoming house. There were books here that were far older than 1970, antiques of the time, let alone now.

But I took my mind off of that to study the stool which stood in the centre of the room. It wasn't something alien to the house, the wood was damp and rotting, but the crisp white envelope sat on top was. Kicking a stand-less globe out of my path and into a deep pile of dirt and dust in the corner, I moved towards the stool, my heart beginning to up the pace again. My shoulders twitched backwards, responding to a strange tingling sensation down my spine. I swallowed down the itchiness that the thick, musty air caused to my throat. I read the front of the envelope.

Again, addressed _Patrick Jane_.

'Put some gloves on before you handle that, Jane,' Lisbon said from behind me.

'Since when do I use gloves?'

'Doesn't matter. You will now. Let's preserve the evidence shall we?'

She pulled a pair of thick latex gloves from her jacket pocket and waved them at me.

Grimacing, I took the gloves and pulled them over my hands awkwardly, immediately hating the feeling that they gave. I turned back to the envelope, flexing my hands frustratedly in the gloves. I coughed into my sleeve slightly, the dust irritating my throat. Taking in a deep breath, I slid the envelope off of the stool and turned it in my rubberised fingers. I lifted the unglued seal and slid a small card out of the envelope's embrace. Noting a small reddish-brown smudge in the top right-hand corner of the card, I looked at the back for anything else, but nothing marred the clean whiteness of the opposite side. I could feel three expectant, curious, anticipating stares burning into my back as I found the writing on the front and read over it slowly.

_Here lies the soul of Patrick Jane. __15__th__ April 1969 - 21__st__ June 2002.__ Killed in battle. Unmissed. Unloved._

I reread twice before I felt tears stinging at the corners of my eyes as the words sunk in. Anger and sorrow filled me up to the brim. A tear dripped, so loud in the quiet, crumbling room, on one of the latex gloves. I quickly remembered who was stood behind me and sniffed quietly, looking up at the ceiling until the tears receded.

'Jane?' I heard Lisbon call my name.

'Uh...yeah...' I replied, my voice only a soft, barely audible sound. I swivelled on the spot and looked at the agents stood before me, 'Let's go.'

'Hang on, what's on the card?' Lisbon frowned.

'Nothing, let's just...get out of here before the house collapses on us, eh?' I changed the subject, my voice still quiet as a mouse as I proceeded to walk between Lisbon and Van Pelt and out of the door.

'What do you mean nothing?' Lisbon tried to ask, but I left, ignoring her questions.

As I stepped back out into the slightly more brightened day outside, the sun beginning to warm the air, I cleared my throat. I looked over the street, still trying to efficiently clear the thin rims of tears around my eyes. I knew what Red John meant.

My soul had died on the day that he had killed Angela and Charlotte. And he knew it. He knew it all too well, and that's how he always knew the exact workings of getting under my skin and dislodging my confidence. Whether it was a phone call or a letter, or even just a word, it was carefully handpicked by him to have just the right effect on me.

I squinted against the rapidly brightening sun, and I could feel my skin beginning to burn underneath my black three-piece suit. I didn't wait for Lisbon, Van Pelt and Cho to stop discussing what was wrong with me, or what had been on the letter while still standing in the study of number seven. I made my way back towards the SUV, clambering in and dreading the moment when they would all pile in and begin to question me. Or maybe it would be one of those times where everyone stayed silent and Lisbon dragged me to her office when we got back to interrogate me seemingly kindly, but made me fidget and feel uncomfortable as I was slowly forced to choke up my feelings. Either way, I didn't look forward to it.

I stared down at the card clutched between my fingers for a while, before finding a collection of evidence bags in the backseat of the SUV, and slipping it into one, delivering into a jacket pocket. I peeled the gloves from my hands with a snap and wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. The heat inside the car was beginning to fry me, and I felt continuously more and more uncomfortable. I saw Lisbon and the other two finally exit the house, stepping over the trampled gate on the way out and back to the SUV.

I wound down the window and breathed in all of a cool breeze that I could, chilling my body from the inside out. I could imagine myself sinking into the couch and just napping for a while, trying to think of what might happen when I finally found Kristina, and possibly Red John. Would he be able to escape again? Or would I be able to catch him because I wouldn't be attached to an antiquely big chair with cling film? I would say that I felt we were on a verge, and that we were getting so very close to discovering who Red John was anyway, etcetera, etcetera, but last time I thought that, we lost the main lead to the man himself. It was never a safe business to be involved in the Red John case on any level, and therefore it was never a safe business to follow a trail of clues to try and find him. But he knew by now that I would risk my life to find him. I would die, if I had to. I felt a wave of emotion ripple through me again. God, that couch seemed more appealing than ever right now.

* * *

'Jane, you're not leaving this office until you tell me what was on that card and what you're thinking. You said you would let us take part in this with you. Keep your word.'

I grimaced. It had been the second option. Silence in the car and a session with Lisbon in her office. I stood before her desk, silently weighing up the options.

1. Run from the office with the card in my pocket, with the faint hope that I might be able to outrun CBI's best senior agent.

2. End up telling Lisbon everything about the card and the meaning, and she seeing another chunk of my emotionally wrecked inside.

3. Be my stubborn self and just refuse to let her in on the clue, telling her that I didn't care if I had to stay in her office, and ask her for a cup of tea when she finally left for something like a toilet break.

Knowing my luck, and Lisbon's strong will, however, it would probably end up being option two instead of one or three.

'I know this case is very personal to you, especially now that Kristina has gone missing as well,' Lisbon continued.

I narrowed my eyes, 'What, you think the fact that Kristina's in danger makes this more personal? Why?'

'Well...you like her. It's obvious. And you asked her out.'

I didn't have the time or energy to point out that I detected a slight hint of jealousy amongst the professional tones of her voice. 'Well yeah but...hang on, how do you know about the date?'

'I must be psychic,' she smiled, but it was soon gone as she continued what she was originally saying. 'But anyway, you promised that you would involve us this time. Keep us in the loop, so that we could help you and offer support. You may think that what is on that card is personal and for your eyes only, but it's also evidence, and it can help us forward. So...please? May I see the card?'

I huffed. I looked into Lisbon's pleading face, trying to decide what I wanted to do. But those beautiful green eyes of hers didn't take their time in breaking through the defences I had to stop myself giving her the card, so I found my hand in my pocket, around the evidence bag. My finger traced the outer edge of the card slowly before I finally gave in and handed the card over.

'Thank you,' Lisbon replied, taking the bag.

I heard her murmur the words under her breath as she read. I watched her features contort into a frown. 'What's this supposed to mean?' she asked, looking up at me.

'Lisbon, the 21st June 2002 was the day my wife and child were killed.'

A sympathetic expression replaced the frown. I'd almost grown fed up of the looks, and the apologies that I received when the worst mistake of my life was brought up.

'So...by saying _Here lies the soul..._ he means...'

'Yes. He means that my soul was killed on that day, because of how he wrecked, and screwed up my life and threw it away like a ball of paper in a bin,' I finished bitterly.

_**A/N: Goes without saying...**_


	4. Home Again

Chapter 4. Home Again.

I clutched the steering wheel of my old Citroen loosely. It was getting late now, and even though my whole body was longing for rest, I couldn't seem to turn off the desire to keep following Red John's trail. I was driving towards home. Not for the mattress that laid in the corner of my room, but for the clue that Red John had left there for me. I knew that I should have brought Lisbon, because I knew I had to try and include her more before I got given a lecture from Minelli on how I was getting too wrapped up in this case, and how I was too emotionally involved to be able to handle it sensibly on my own. But I didn't want Lisbon here. Not in my house. I didn't want her to see the empty shell of what used to be my home. I didn't want her to become saddened and worried for me. It wasn't necessary. I'd known too much sympathy over the years, and I didn't want anymore. I would tell Lisbon tomorrow. She didn't have to come near my house.

I sighed softly as I pressed my back against the driver's seat, hearing it creak as I put more pressure on it. I suppressed a yawn behind my fist as I continued to drive on. The road before me became mildly blurry as tired tears filled my eyes and another yawn stretched my jaw. It was a frustrating thing, to become so tired, but be burdened with the problem that I could not sleep. I imagined a steaming cup of tea that I would make in the kitchen, before psyching myself up to search the house for the next clue. I imagined the high caffeine content flooding through me and creating the buzz that would keep me wide awake for the next few hours at least. I brought up a hand to scratch the back of my neck as I brought the Citroen round the last bend before home.

I looked out over the sea beneath the cliffs, the early moon bringing a silvery twinkle to the breakers on the shore, the foam washing over the sandy stretches of beach. I remembered how Angela and I used to go down there on occasion and lay on the sand, listening to the waves and watching the stars long after Charlotte had gone to bed. But that had been a long time before my occupation had caused Angela discomfort. That had been when our marriage had been completely at peace. Before I was pleaded every single day to stop before I got someone hurt. I missed those days so much. I often wished that I could have just one more night like that, with her snuggled inside my arms on that soft sand. But I knew all too well that it would never happen.

I pulled up to the darkened house, knowing that Red John had been there a second time. It made my blood chill as I stepped out of the car and observed the shadow of my house. No, I could no longer consider it a home. Ever since that day, it had just become another house to me. I began to walk forwards slowly, unsure of what to expect inside. I felt my hands shaking slightly. I didn't notice a pair of headlights stop further down the hill and turn off, descending the surroundings into darkness. I could only concentrate on finding what there was to find inside the house before me. I pushed open the door.

I could suddenly see Charlotte's tasselled tricycle resting by the door, before it was gone in an instant. I scanned the immediate environment looking for any kind of clue. That cup of tea I had planned wasn't necessary any more. I could already feel adrenaline rushing through my veins, making my senses turn wild with everything around me. The familiar smell of woodwork and emptiness. The dulled colours that filled every room. The touch of the smooth painted walls as my fingers brushed along them. The taste of anticipation, fear and dread in the air. I fumbled for the light in the darkened surroundings. And as the brightness of the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling hit every inch of the emptied room, my pulse hit the roof. My eyes widened as I stared down at the floor, stepping backwards slightly. Smeared across the pine floorboards was a huge, grinning, monstrous smiley face, staring up at the ceiling, but seeming to stare at me as well. Below were the words: 'Tick tock, tick tock!'

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. I knew it wasn't blood. There was no metallic smell hanging in the air. But every time I saw that drawing, fresh and bright red, I felt like I would choke. I felt the old pain in my heart, that was caused by the shock, and utter grief that surrounded that _creation. _A smiley face that could strike terror and dread into the hearts of the coldest men. I took a few more steps back, taking my foot off the outline of the face. I breathed out shakily as my back touched the wall lightly. I couldn't hear properly over the sound of my heart beat, the continuous drumming filling my head and making me feel slightly dizzy. But I could just hear the sound of the door creaking slowly open behind me. I spun on the spot in a matter of milliseconds, by reactions quickened by the adrenaline that pumped within me. I took in a sharp breath as I found Lisbon stood in my doorway. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, composing myself.

'What are you doing here?' I asked shakily.

She took a step back quickly. 'I'm sorry, Jane. I know you probably don't want me here at all, but I figured out the clue too, and I knew that it was going to be impossible for me to persuade you to let me come here...so I followed you.' She had taken a small glance around the area she could see, and that obviously didn't include the smiley on the floor. I could tell she was slightly confused about the emptiness that she saw. I could see it in her eyes.

'I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to be here alone,' she said slowly, looking up at me.

'Um...' I didn't know what to say. I was still processing the drawing behind me, and the shock of Lisbon being at my front door.

'So...are you ok? You look really pale.' she asked, making use of my silence.

'Uh...yeah. Fine. I'm fine.'

'Did you find anything?'

I nodded weakly. I felt like I should be saying something. Telling her that I didn't want her inside my house, but I couldn't seem to find the right words that wouldn't make it sound like I was angry at her. Her motives were caring, and I couldn't throw that back at her. But this was exactly what I didn't want to happen.

I grimaced as she stepped sideways and saw the painted face.

She remained silent as I watched her examine the floor.

'He came back here...' she murmured. 'You ok?' she asked again.

'Yeah.' But suddenly, unexpectedly, I felt moisture crowd at the corners of my eyes. I didn't even know why. But Lisbon could see it. Her expression softened and she looked sadly at me. I looked her briefly in the eye before I quickly left for the kitchen. Anywhere out of sight. I stood, my back turned to the door, and blinked hard, trying to figure out the reason for this sudden burst of emotion. My efforts to keep it all contained failed as a tear trailed slowly down my cheek.

'Jane...?' I heard her voice as she entered the kitchen behind me. I felt her soft touch on my arm. I sniffed quietly, quickly swiping away the tear.

'What's wrong?'

'Everything's wrong, Lisbon. Everything. Everything I do...it's...' I hesitated, not even sure I knew where I was going.

'I don't understand,' she replied softly.

'Neither do I...'

I felt a tug at my arm, and I turned to look at Lisbon. Her expression was saddened and confused, but full of sympathy. She simply looked at me, her hands resting lightly on my arms. The fresh tear on my cheek must have said it all as she pulled me into a hug, wrapping her arms firmly around my back. I slowly brought my cheek to rest on her head and my arms to secure around her, feeling the comforting warmth that she gave off seep into me, calming my emotion.

'I'm sorry,' I murmured softly.

She simply rubbed soothing circles into my back with the palm of her hand. I suddenly felt closer to her than I had ever done before as I buried my face in her neck and pulled her tighter.

* * *

'Jane?' Lisbon asked as we sat on the floor against a kitchen cupboard.

'Yes?' I replied.

'Why...why is your house like this?'

'What do you mean?'

'Why is it empty? Why do you make yourself live like this?' Lisbon turned her head to look at me as I stared ahead.

I turned my head, 'I just...couldn't bear having anything around that reminded me of them. So everything went,' I told her quietly, 'Besides, house work really isn't my thing.' I tried to joke.

Lisbon looked down at her lap. I looked round at her.

'Please don't feel sorry for me. I don't need it,' I said.

'You need something, someone, Jane. I know you won't like it, but I do feel bad about this. Why couldn't you have told me before? I would have helped. You know I would. You promised you'd be there for me, no matter what. But what happens when you need someone? What happens when you fall down?'

We met gazes for a second before it was my turn to look into my lap. My heart was beating in my ears.

'I guess you're right,' I admitted. I hated to think that I would pull people into the misery that I'd been stuck in for so long, but I couldn't even try to tell myself that I didn't need someone to keep me grounded. Not now.

'If you _ever _need anything, I don't care what it is, anything. Even just someone to talk to...you can come and see me, alright?'

I smiled softly as we met gazes again, and this time I kept that moment, despite the tears that were crowding my eyes. 'Ok.'

I leant forward, my finger underneath Lisbon's chin as I pressed a kiss to her cheek. As I pulled away, I could see the bright pink flush creeping onto her cheeks in the dull light. Smiling again, I watched the way she turned her gaze to her lap, running a finger along one of her nails.

I knew, at that point, that she was the one thing that kept me sane, kept my feet on the ground.

'Thank you, Teresa.' I put my hand over hers between us, just a small token of my appreciation for everything she was to me.

As I looked into her eyes, it felt like she was the only thing in my world at that moment. Nothing else that was going on in my life mattered, nor what had caused me to become so emotional earlier. Her pretty green orbs were all I wanted to see. But suddenly, I felt myself becoming dangerously absorbed, enough to make me move forwards millimetre by millimetre, and I quickly looked away, taking my hand off hers.

I heard her cough, feeling the awkwardness that had suddenly planted itself slap bang in between us.

'I think I should get going,' she murmured, clearing her throat, 'You gonna be okay?'

I nodded before we both stood up and awkwardly walked to the front door.

'Get some rest, okay? Try not to...' she waved loosely at the floor beside us, 'Y'know.'

I nodded again as she began to leave.

'Uh, Lisbon!' I called instinctively.

'Yeah?'

I looked around awkwardly, giving her a brief flicker of a glimpse, putting my hands deep in my trouser pockets. 'Night.'

'Night, Jane.' She closed the door behind her and was gone.

I turned on my heel, feeling panic run through me. What had just happened? Had I really just almost let myself kiss Lisbon? I'd never felt like that before, not with Lisbon. I ran a hand through my hair, dishevelling the curls. My eyes ran across the walls of the room before I began to walk towards the stairs. My steps were shaky as I began to climb. I'd taken Kristina on a date first, and hadn't even come close to thinking about kissing...so why had I just suddenly, instinctively tried to do so with Lisbon?

My mind was racing as I flung my jacket aside in the bedroom and began pacing, unbuttoning my waistcoat and tugging it free, trying to release some of the heat that I felt building up inside me. I sighed heavily, landing on the mattress and laying back.

I closed my eyes tight, trying to stop my brain from running in circles and collapsing in on itself. I pressed my head back into the pillow and tried to sleep. And when I finally did, my dreams were not of Red John, or of Angela and Charlotte, but of Lisbon. Teresa Lisbon.

* * *

My hands shook on the steering wheel of my SUV as I drove down the dark Cliffside roads, heading home. Or somewhere at least. My head was spinning, and all I could think about was how close Jane had come to me before he realised what he was doing. I could still feel the ghost of his soft breath on my face, and it caused goosebumps to erupt over my skin, making me shiver. I was just trying to figure out what that had really been. Was it a moment of weakness? Or was it shut up, forbidden feelings breaking through the cell walls? And what did I feel about it? I didn't know. I couldn't figure out what my brain was trying to say. I just knew that there was some kind of strange feeling in my stomach...butterflies? As he had begun to draw closer.

God...

I wound my window down as far as it would go and took in long, deep breaths of cool night air. I wondered whether that would change anything between us. Maybe we would become more awkward around eachother...maybe it meant that Jane would share a little more with me...if the true meaning of that moment had been true feelings. Or maybe he'd close off completely, scared of what had happened. I hoped that wouldn't be the case...he was already hard enough to get to, without some strange feeling making him shut me out. I let out a long heavy breath.

Tomorrow would tell...

_**A/N: Make sure that little review button down there is the next one you press :P**_


	5. The Clock Is Ticking

_**A/N: Ok, sorry for the long wait. I've had so many different feelings towards this story. Not getting many reviews, getting a bit annoyed with the limit of first person-ness, frustrated how short it'll end up being...but hey. Thanks to my small huddle of reviewers for caring enough to say something in a review. Much love xxx **_

Chapter 5. The Clock Is Ticking.

I stared out the slightly grimy windows in my CBI hideout. I wasn't really looking at the view that I could see though. My mind was too full, too busy, to be able to concentrate on what I was seeing. The tired old drawers that I was sat on creaked slightly as I stared intently at the open page in my book. I twirled a pencil between my fingers, thinking, thinking of what to write, what to do, on the blank page that my thumb rested on. While I tried to think about Red John, Kristina, I couldn't help the petit, dark haired and green eyed Senior Agent from slipping through my thoughts. Even now I could still feel her warm breath on my skin like I had last night.

I rubbed my forehead lightly. I looked around the room. The bare brick walls, the worn wooden panelling, the rusty chains and old ropes hanging from the ceiling...the undisturbed silence. But inside my mind, it was like a train station. Noises echoing through my head, loud voices and shouting, alarm bells and whistles, the bustling and colliding of thoughts and I couldn't even start to try and sort it out. I looked down at my book again, running my fingers over the softly textured page, trying to reflect the blankness into my head. I rested my head on the heel of my right hand, rubbing gently, mildly soothing my aching brain. Swiftly bringing pencil to paper, I tried to leak some of the bustle in my brain onto the blank canvas of the double page spread.

* * *

Stepping cautiously through the elevator doors, I quickly scanned the area for signs of Jane. I couldn't tell whether it was because I wanted to talk to him, that I was looking for him, or whether I wanted to avoid him, but either way, I couldn't see him, not even on his beloved couch. I walked slowly, carefully, round to the kitchen, poking my head round the corner, but again, not seeing him.

'Hey, boss.'

I jumped suddenly, spinning on the spot and breathing out a sigh of relief as I met eyes with Van Pelt.

'Hi,' I replied over the sound of my heart pummelling in my ears.

'Are you ok?' Van Pelt looked at me strangely.

'Yeah, of course. Fine. Why wouldn't I be?'

Van Pelt nodded slowly. 'Well, I've been looking up anything I can find on Evelyn Immerson and her daughter, Alayna. You know...connections to Red John.'

'Mhm,' I replied, still overcoming the shock.

'Well, Alayna did have two children...' Van Pelt scanned over a piece of paper in the file before her, 'Jacob and Eleanor Immerson. Alayna was a single nineteen year old mom...'

I nodded. 'So it's likely that this Jacob Immerson is Red John?'

'That's if we're assuming it's a personal connection, yes.'

'Ok, good. Do we know anything about him?'

'No. There's nothing on him anywhere - but if Alayna gave birth in 1983...and this is Red John we're looking at...he'll only have been seventeen when he killed his first victim in 2000.'

My face contorted into a slightly puzzled expression, if not that, then worried, 'Ok... well it's possible. We don't really know anything about him. We don't know what happened to him. Keep digging, ok?'

'Mhm,' Van Pelt nodded and walked back to the bullpen.

I looked around briefly, remembering what I was doing before Van Pelt had appeared. Searching for Jane. That was it. I think.

I knew that ever since Kristina had been abducted and Jane had come face to face with Red John, he hadn't been around as much. He had changed, and it wasn't in a good way. It seemed he had been distancing himself from everyone; finding new places in the CBI where he could be alone. So at times like these when I needed to see him, he wasn't exactly the easiest person to find.

I recalled the most recent places that I'd found him hiding. An empty interrogation room, a small patch of garden behind the CBI, the records room in the basement...but the most recent had been a small unkempt room at the top of the building, where the decorators hadn't reached. All it contained was rusty chains, old ropes and pulleys and a bunch of old wooden planks. But it had a wide viewing window over Sacramento which he'd told me he liked. I headed back towards the elevator, thinking up something to say along the way.

* * *

I heard a knock on metal from behind me and I snapped my book shut abruptly before turning fractionally to identify the intruder.

'Lisbon.'

'Hey,' she replied.

Silence.

'Um. I wanted to talk.'

I didn't reply.

I looked down, my stomach filling with flitting butterflies as I hid my book in the folds of my jacket, which lay crumpled on the floor.

I heard hesitant steps approach behind me until Lisbon was stood at my side. My eyes flickered briefly upwards, my head remaining forwards. Her hands dug into her pockets, and she looked uncomfortable as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again. It took a several seconds of looking down at me before she actually said anything more.

'You know what we're gonna talk about, right?'

I nodded stiffly, my gaze wandering around the room before I stood up and walked over to the window, leaning one shoulder on the glass. I crossed my arms, waiting for Lisbon to carry on.

She exhaled heavily. 'I'm not gonna try and tiptoe around the subject, because it won't help either of us. I need to know, Jane... was yesterday about weakness or true feelings?'

I bit the inside of my cheek, staring out the window. I stayed silent for what felt like an age. 'I don't know, Lisbon,' I sighed, looking back at her weakly.

'What do you think?' I asked quietly.

'I don't know...' she paused, 'but... if that was about feelings, I don't think it's a good time.'

I nodded, looking out at the view of Sacramento again.

'Just...y'know...just as long as we don't distance ourselves because of it, it'll be ok, right?'

'Yeah,' I nodded slowly, 'It'll be ok...' My voice sounded absent and far off even to me.

Lisbon's footsteps approached me, and I felt her hand stroke my arm softly. 'What are you thinking?'

The feel of Lisbon's fingers running down my arm sent goosebumps rippling across my body, and I felt cold suddenly.

'Nothing.' I turned towards her and gave her a soft, almost sad smile.

'Let's get back to work, ok?' she returned the smile and nodded towards the door.

'Excellent idea.'

I followed behind her, almost wishing that she would lead me by the hand so I could feel that same safe warmth that I had the night before, but I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, both for myself, and for her. We were at a place on the path where even if we wanted to, we couldn't just run together. I knew I wanted to get away from the heavy burden that rested on my tired shoulders every single day, but it just wasn't an option. I had to keep going, keep fighting to capture the man who had stolen my life. Then, and only then might I ever be able to try again, try to give myself something new to fill my heart, whatever that may be.

Soon, we were once more located in the bullpen, with the team again sat either at their desks or leaning against their desks as I filled them in on what Lisbon and I had seen the night before. I could tell that the other three agents were internally asking the question, 'How did Lisbon persuade him to let her go to his house?' They knew that even at the slightest suggestion of such a thing I would refuse stubbornly, almost snappily. It was only because I knew that if anyone saw the state I lived in, they would automatically have sympathy for me, and I couldn't bear that kind of gesture. It was just something that I hated. I would have to live with the fact that Lisbon now knew, but at least she didn't cause too much of a fuss. It was actually me that had caused the bigger scene of it.

'Where does that leave us then?' Cho asked, pointing out the flaw in Red John's next clue; the fact that it wasn't a clue.

'Well, we either have to try and find a way that it _is _a clue, or we wait to see what his next move is, right?' Rigsby suggested.

Lisbon nodded her agreement. 'Van Pelt, did you find anything else on Jacob Immerson?'

I listened as the youngest agent proceeded to explain how nothing new had shown up on Jacob, but a certain Gareth Tagliaferro Immerson, relation unknown, had been involved with the development of a company named Cut Iron Industries. So there was another Red John connection. Another useless one. What was he trying to tell me? What use was any of the information that he'd thrown at me so far?

Van Pelt then proceeded to mention that Alayna Immerson was now deceased, since eleven years ago, one year before Red John came into existence. The autopsy report stated that she had committed suicide. Shot herself. I was slowly beginning to see this man's dark past. A murder and a suicide in two immediate generations did nothing good for anyone.

Through the corner of my eye, I watched Lisbon take in the information herself. We shared a brief sideways glance.

I wondered why Red John was giving us all this information. Was this the beginning of the end, or just another play?

I breathed out slowly.

_Tick tock, tick tock._

But for who? Kristina or himself?

'Why is he giving us all this?' Lisbon reflected my thoughts.

I stared at the rippling wood patterns in the floor, 'Well he's not dying or giving up, so I'm going to take a guess at just another parade.'

'Maybe he wants us to understand him more,' Van Pelt suggested. 'Seen as you and he had that encounter, maybe he's thinking that you should know some more about him. Seen as he knows so much about you. I mean, we all know what he's like and how untouchable he is, it's not as if it's going to give him weakness.'

I nodded. Van Pelt made a good point. We all knew that he would always be five steps ahead of us, so just a little toying was his method of fun. I was about to reply, but for the buzzing of my phone in my waistcoat pocket.

Fishing it out between two fingers I flipped it over and open in my hand.

'Ah, new message!' I waved the phone in the air before reading it to myself.

_Hello Jane. How about we do some old fashioned police work?_

_Come and find me when you're ready. Don't bring anyone else._

I immediately gave the handset to Lisbon, her inquisitive expression already asking for me to hand it over.

'What does it say?' Rigsby asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.

Lisbon read out the text message to the team as they all leant further forwards in their seats.

'Isn't there an old police station just outside Sacramento due for demolition?' Cho said.

I looked at him blankly. 'Good Cho,' I praised him, 'Let's go!'

'Wait, what? Hang on a minute,' Lisbon stopped me as I headed for the elevator.

'What?'

'Well we need to organise something! A back up team. We can't just go charging in there and hope for the best.'

'No, I will,' I replied bluntly.

'No you're not, Jane.'

'There could be anything in there. Traps, explosives.'

'Well what would be the point in blowing me up, Lisbon?'

'The point is, I'm not going to let you run in there without some kind of protection.'

'He said I shouldn't bring anyone else with me. Come on, we've got to go!'

'Jane!'

'What?'

She stared at me, helplessly searching for something to say.

'She's right, Jane, you can't go in there on without protection or back up,' Rigsby supported Lisbon, walking up behind her with the rest of the team.

I looked around at them all. 'I'll be fine!' I insisted.

They simply looked back at me.

'What would you suggest I do then?'

The whole journey to Old Sacramento Police Department had been filled with Lisbon sternly ordering me to wear a slim fit CBI vest underneath my clothing, giving me various bottomless threats until I wore one just to stop her fussing.

There would be a backup team nearby when I entered, which I had assured, or tried to assure everyone were unnecessary, but had been ignored. Lisbon and the other three would also be nearby. Closer by.

I rolled my eyes as we stood outside in the Californian heat, tugging at the vest again as it sat uncomfortably underneath my shirt. It wouldn't take a detective to notice the extra bulk I now wore, consisting of a black CBI t-shirt and the vest.

'Stop fiddling,' Lisbon told me as she stood beside me. I could hear the blatant worry in her voice. Only a couple of weeks ago I was going into a danger zone on my own, but this time it was like I was being sent in, and it made her worry, even with the protection I had.

'Don't worry, Lisbon, I'll be fine.'

'I'm not worrying.'

'Yes you are.'

I flickered a glance back at the SUV, where Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt waited.

'Not.' She looked around nervously, avoiding eye contact.

I smiled softly. 'I promise I'll come out alive.'

'You better,' she chanced a glance up at me.

'I feel safer knowing you care so much,' I told her.

'Ha-ha,' she murmured.

'I don't like this,' she said.

'I know.'

'You be careful, ok?' she softly nudged my arm with her shoulder.

'I'm always careful.'

Lisbon gave me a doubting look, which I could only smile back at.

My smile fell as I quickly placed a kiss on her cheek, making her look away briefly.

'Hey, wish me luck.'

Lisbon didn't seem to want to, so I stepped forward, taking in the building before me. The old brick work was crumbling and dying, only a ghost of where the original Sacramento Police used to be located. Stepping into the shadow that the huge looming structure cast over a broken parking lot, the sudden chill made me shiver, and I gave a last look back at Lisbon before proceeding forward, wondering what awaited me inside...


	6. Into The Darkness

_**A/N: Wow, this chapter took a lot of brain power. Seriously. Trying to think of stuff that makes sense as I proceed with life, sitting in a chair just thinking of stuff, leaking thoughts onto a word document, and proceeding to make sense of that stuff... Hope it's 'kay. This story has changed so much since the original plans. In fact, I think the original plan has completely gone out the window. XD But meh. **_

_**- **__**Thanks for the reviews on last chapter!**_

Chapter 6. Into The Darkness.

Steadily, I moved forward, examining every single detail of the building before me. My brain and my heart were in overdrive, and my eyes were whizzing as they scrutinised the surroundings. I travelled silently, feeling the ominous touch to this situation I was in, but the wind didn't seem to care. It was no more silent than road works. It whistled around the brickwork in the old police department, and brought tiny stones tumbling across the concrete. It battered the trees that resided along the brick walls of the car park, bringing leaves swooping through the air and touching only for a second on the ground before they were whisked up again. I felt the cold chill of both wind and shade bringing goosebumps to my skin and sending waves of icy sensation through my body. I shivered, passing a shiny new sign stating the imminent demolition of the building and the date and time of the event. Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock. Plenty of time.

Soon, I found my hand curling nervously around the metal of the door handle. I could see the reflection of Lisbon and the SUV in the glass. I hoped they weren't too close. Red John had stated that I come alone, and if he knew they were there, I dreaded to think what would happen.

I stared at her reflection, watching, even this far away, hearing the worried musings of her brain.

I brought myself quietly out of my trance, and pulled the door wide open, disappearing inside, into the darkness.

Once inside, my footsteps seemed to echo off the walls, creating far too much noise for my liking. I began to wonder where I should be headed. I cautiously trailed my eyes over the reception area. It was small, cosy, reflecting a sense of friendly, tight-knit community, ironic considering the purpose of the organisation which had once used the building. Marked, worn floorboards ran underneath my feet, leading up to a desk, slightly placed to the left to allow for a door into the rest of the station. The word 'Reception' read across the front of the desk in letters which would have illuminated with a little electricity. The badge of the Sacramento Police Department still displayed proudly above the receptionist's chair space, despite the inevitable fate of the building. It was obvious that chairs had once lined the walls from the sets of small, square marks on the floor. Two doors were positioned along the right wall for men and women's toilets.

I stepped forward in the stream of dusty, dull light which poured through the glass doors. I tugged at the vest again, getting frustrated at the tightness around my torso. I was having a debate in my head; the pros and cons of leaving it on or taking it off.

Pros: Higher level of comfort, feel like a daredevil.

Cons: Lisbon will hit when item removal has been discovered. Might get stabbed by Red John. Get injured because of item removal, and Lisbon will hit, despite injury.

Ok, let's keep it on.

I walked forward towards the front desk, peeking over the top, maybe to check for a clue or something that would help me now that I was here. I wasn't sure. There wasn't anything there, but suddenly there was a loud voice echoing off the walls, coming from a loud speaker in the corner of the reception. Pushing my heart rate back down again, I stared up at the speaker, listening to a voice which was chillingly familiar.

'_So, Kristina Frye, tell me about yourself. What was your childhood like? Your family? When did you realise that you could speak to the departed?'_

I watched, my teeth gritting and a sort of silent anger filling me from head to toe. But at least Kristina was here...wasn't she? A quiet sound over the speaker sounded simply like a crackle at first, but then I realised it was a moan...and I broke into a run, throwing open the doors to the right, heading in what I imagined to be the way to the interrogation rooms. I jogged along the corridor, only seeing offices and record rooms on each side of me. Coming to a dead end, a small rectangular window hanging above me, illuminating the dust showering down over me, I spun on my heel and found a door I had missed to the right, through which, was a flight of stairs. I skipped every other step on my way up, my heart pummelling.

'_How about you show me how your contacting the dead works, hmm?'_

Stumbling out of the stairwell onto the second floor, my eyes darted along the corridor, seeing doors, and more doors, up until the corners at each end, making a U-shape.

'_How about you summon someone for me?'_

I ran towards the end, pushing off the wall as I rounded the corner into a shorter corridor. Coming to the end, I discovered a large rectangular space, of which there was a square set up of tables in the middle, and numbered doors running around the outside. There seemed to be two doors to each room. One must be for the interrogation room, and the other for the observation room. All the blinds on the doors were turned down, but I could see slim slices of light escaping from the door placed exactly central along the far wall. I took long, deep breaths, as I made my way forward. Swinging around the tables, my eyes were fixed only on the shards of light creeping from that door.

I kept telling myself that this time around, I was in control of the situation. I wasn't tied down, I wasn't powerless. Whatever I wanted to happen, would happen, and there was nothing to stop me.

'_How about you summon Patrick Jane for me?'_

My heart was so loud in my ears it could have been in my head. I kept creeping forwards, trying not to make any noise. I paused at the door to the interrogation room, stooped over just beside it. Carefully, I looked up through the blinds.

Inside, I could see a table, and Kristina, sat across from a dark hooded figure on the right-hand side. There was a cup of steaming tea on the table before the hooded figure. As I recoiled from the blind, I was shaking violently, and my breathing was raggedy as hell. I tried to think up a plan, probably something I should have done beforehand. What was I meant to do? I was unarmed, unprepared...the only things I had with me was a protective vest and a haunting image in my head of Lisbon staring after me.

I slowly composed myself, imagining myself in pieces, and slowly pulling myself back together. It was a personal therapy session. Then, I stepped fully in front of the door and pushed down on the handle, throwing the door wide open and launching at the dark figure, tackling him to the ground. I heard a frenzied, muffled voice from above.

As I slowly pulled up, I realised something was wrong. There was no movement coming from the heavy form I had just pulled to the floor, and the arm I had a tight grip of felt rubbery and squishy. I tore back the hood and the mask. What I saw, instead of a real man, was a man made out of orange ballistics gel. I stared wide eyed, uttering silent curses.

A violent chill ran through my body as a deep, monstrous laugh echoed from the loud speakers. I stood slowly, teeth gritted and my eyes stinging with tears. I looked down at Kristina. Her lightly applied mascara made smudges of black around her eyes. And only now did I realise that she was wearing an oxygen nasal tube. She only gazed sadly at me, tears tumbling down her cheeks and running over the duct tape on her mouth. It was then that I realised I had walked straight into a trap.

The tea cup before me didn't contain a liquid which resembled tea in any way. It was far too late when I stepped away from the 'steam.' My head started to turn fuzzy and my vision clouded. Only a few more seconds and I crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The loud thump of my body hitting the ground echoed in my ears, before the only thing that I was aware of was that endless laughter, mocking me, making me realise how stupid I was that I thought I could have just caught him. Slowly falling into unconsciousness, I felt my face become moist with bitter salty tears...

* * *

Stood by the SUV, my expression of worry hadn't changed since Jane disappeared into the building. I kept shifting my weight from foot to foot agitatedly. Cho was next to me, his arm hanging out of the window, as he sat inside the SUV.

'What do you think is going on in there?' I asked.

'I don't know,' replied Cho in his usual flat tones, 'but if Red John is in there, it's not likely to be anything good.'

I wished I hadn't asked him now. It just made me worry even more.

'I don't get what he wants this time. What's the use in just giving Kristina back, but risking his life, and threatening Jane's at the same time? What's he getting out of it?'

Cho shrugged. 'If we understood what Red John wanted and what his aims were, we would have caught him by now.'

I looked from the building back to Cho's watch.

'How long has it been?'

Cho studied the face of his watch. 'Uh, about half an hour.'

'I don't like it.'

Cho looked up at me as I stared at the building, maybe willing its walls to turn transparent so I could see where Jane was and if he was ok.

'We should go in,' I said authoritatively.

'He said Jane shouldn't bring anyone else,' Cho stated.

'Screw Red John. Besides, Jane didn't bring us. We came with him. I want to know that everything's alright.'

_I want to know if Jane's alright _I told myself.

Cho seemed to study my set expression for a while until he nodded. He turned to Rigsby and Van Pelt. 'We're going in.'

The two other agents nodded and began climbing from the car.

I readied my glock before me, making sure it was properly loaded a few more times than necessary.

Myself, Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby created a line in front of the SUV. I surveyed my team, my family, minus one. They nodded in return. It was time to help the last family member.

I took the lead, quickly manoeuvring forward towards the old Sacramento PD. My shoes scuffed up dirt and stones as they quickly shuffled along the concrete. Brown-green leaves tumbled across my path, the odd one crunching underneath my footsteps. Making no delay in reaching the door, I threw it open and swung my gun around, covering the entire reception area with a single sweeping glance.

'Clear!' I pronounced, hurrying for the door next to the front desk. As I charged through, the team split behind me, checking the doors that lined the corridor, but I headed straight for the stairwell, and the second floor. As I burst out into the corridor, pointing my gun out before me, I noticed a disturbance in the carpet; a long trail of carpet fibres being pushed down in the opposite direction to the rest. Drag marks? I followed the path around the corner and saw a wide open space ahead at the end. Tables situated in the middle, and doors lining the three walls.

I crept around, still following the carpet trail, and watched it disappear into a room placed central along the furthest wall. I swallowed hard and made my way forward, fingers twitching on the trigger of my CBI issue glock. I flicked my head to remove a stray hair from my face. Slowly reaching the door, I carefully put my hand forward and snatched the door handle, sending it flying open. I hastily brought both hands back to my gun and swept it around the inside.

I stared, my heart beating a mile a minute, at Kristina as her head shot up to look at me. My breathing became raggedy and heavy as I noticed the over turned chair on the floor. I hurried round to Kristina, the only witness, and examined her quickly before slowly removing the duct tape from her mouth. Her arms were secured behind the chair with a set of handcuffs, and her ankles tied with lengths of cloth. With just a centimetre of her lips visible, a low whimpering sound ensued. The whole length of tape was soon removed.

'What happened Kristina?' I enquired of her, trying hard to control the panicked edges of my voice.

'Red John...he's taken Patrick,' she whispered.

I swore under my breath, my heart almost stopping.

'Where?' I uttered.

'I...don't know. He just...dragged him away.'

I turned on my heel and slammed my fist on the wall. 'Shit. I'll tell the team to get in here. I'm going after him.'

The psychic nodded slowly as I rushed out of the door, following the carpet trail back again.

This was bad. Really bad. God knows what Red John would do to Jane...God knows what Jane would do to Red John. My throat was dry as bone as I followed the drag marks back to the stairwell. The drag marks created as Jane's lifeless body was pulled away...

'Shut up!' I muttered to myself as I ran up the staircase to the third and last floor. I heard the pounding of footsteps from below and looked over the rail. The team.

'Cho! Come with me! Third floor! Rigsby and Van Pelt, Kristina's on the second floor, go and get her!'

'Ok boss!' Rigsby yelled back up.

Cho was soon behind me. 'Where's Jane?' he asked through hurried breaths as we came hurtling round the bend at the top of the stairs to the third floor door.

'Red... John,' I panted, crashing through the door and coming onto another corridor. There was no carpet here, but I could see the odd fresh scuff mark on the wooden floorboards. I guessed Jane's shoes had left them as he was being dragged. I followed them to the end of the corridor, where they ended at a wide open window. My palms slapping on window sill stopped me from becoming a projectile out the window.

Just below were a set of fire escape ladders and platforms. I jumped swiftly onto the metal grill and stumbled across to the first ladder as I watched a dark figure slamming the doors of a dark blue van shut. I swore again, jumping down the rest of the length of the ladder and starting on the second of three. The figure turned momentarily, and although his eyes and nose were hidden by the shadow of a hood, I could just make out a wide, haunting grin, silently laughing at us as we desperately tried to reach them in time. But even as I started on the last ladder, I knew we were too late.

The driver's door slammed shut, and in a cloud of dust, dirt and stones, the van was screeching away into the distance. I dropped down to the ground from the ladder and watched the van swerve around the side of the building and away onto the road, with no one to stop it. I felt a lump building in my throat and tears crowding my eyes. I kicked a stone with as much force as I could, sending it flying into the distance. Throwing my glock to the ground, I turned on my heel, my hands on my hips. I looked up at Cho, a tear running freely down my pale cheek. He simply looked, as I gritted my teeth.

'DAMN IT!' I yelled, pushing a hand harshly into my hair and grasping my fringe tightly in my fist. There hadn't even been a registration plate on the van. There was no way of tracing it. And Jane was inside. Oh god, Jane was inside.

'Why didn't we get someone to go in with him? We should have done that! ... _Screw _Red John!'

I turned on my heel, snatching up my glock from where it had bounced and landed. I marched off, feeling more and more emotional by the second. I could feel that lump in my throat, forcing tears into my eyes, creating dirty trails down my cheeks as the flying dust clung to the moisture. I collapsed back against the side of the building, and I let my head fall back against the brick. I hit my head hard. Slumping to the ground, I buried my face in my hands, immediately turning my palms slick with tears.

'Jane...' I murmured.

_**A/N: Green button below + clicky clicky = Happiness for moi. :D**_


	7. Tell Me What This Is

**A/N: Yeahhh, ok, two weeks. Sorry guys.**

Chapter 7. Tell Me What This Is.

Sitting across from Kristina in an interrogation room, I could do nothing to stop the panicky ache in my heart. Yesterday, Jane had gone missing, and although my feelings weren't too clear at the moment, it felt like my stabilisers had been removed too soon while I was learning to cycle. I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't. I couldn't _physically_ just close my eyes and become calm enough to make sleep possible. In fact, it was so impossible that I had just climbed into my jeep and driven round and round before ending up in the parking lot at CBI headquarters again at two in the morning.

For some reason, the only thing that I could do then was lie on Jane's couch and think. Think of where he could possibly be now, what could be happening, and whether he was ok. I wanted to know whether I would have felt like this if I hadn't gone round his house and hadn't been sat beside him, so close, on the kitchen floor. I wanted to know whether I would have felt angry, emotional, fearful and hateful, all at the same time, if we hadn't come so close to turning both our worlds upside down.

But now, in the interrogation room, even as I tried to concentrate on how to question Kristina, all I could think about was that haunting grin, that belonged to the serial killer we had been hunting for so many years now, for the sake of the civilians out in society, but mostly for Jane. And now Jane was the one at the merciless hands of that very man whom he held such hatred, that when you truly saw it, it was like staring into oblivion.

'Did you see Red John? Did you see his face?' I asked almost angrily.

Kristina's head cocked to one side slightly. 'No...I never saw him properly. He always wore a mask.'

'He wasn't wearing a mask when we saw him get away with Jane,' I pointed out.

Kristina shook her head. 'I don't know. Whenever I saw him, he had that...twisted Halloween mask.'

'Do you know anything that could help us? Anything that could help us find out what he's going to do next?'

Kristina looked at me, like she was staring into my soul. Maybe she sensed the slight hint of desperation in my voice that I could do nothing to hide.

'Do you care for him, Agent Lisbon?'

I was taken aback by the question and I withdrew from the table slightly. 'Of course I do. As a valued friend and colleague. But I don't see how that...'

'I see more than that...'

I stared back, before I had to look away, swallowing hard. 'No. Can we get back to the point?'

Kristina sighed heavily, 'I don't know what he's going to do next, I guess I was just bait.'

'You seem fine with that.'

'Would you prefer it if I was in floods of tears, mourning over Patrick?'

'No, but I can't help wondering why you don't seem like you were all that worried about being a hostage.'

'I had no real reason to fear for my life, I knew that he wouldn't hurt me.'

'How could you have known that?'

'His intentions were not to harm me.'

'Really?'

Kristina nodded.

'And tell me how you were aware of his intentions?'

She simply looked at me for a few seconds. 'I just knew, ok?'

'No it's not ok! Jane's missing!' I snapped.

Kristina nodded slowly. 'Look, I can tell you're suspicious of me. Perfectly understandable. But I promise I have nothing to do with what Red John is doing.'

I swallowed, staring her in the eye. 'Where's the proof?'

She sighed, 'I can't give you any... you'll have to trust me.'

'Trust you? Tell me how I am to trust you when you disappear from your house, where Jane demanded you had 24 hour protection, without raising any alarms?

Kristina didn't reply, so I continued.

'I mean, I'm sure if you had gone unwillingly with Red John, you would have called out for help; alerted someone to your situation, yes? Or if you were unconscious, someone would have noticed Red John dragging you away, yes?'

'I don't remember what happened.'

'That's convenient.'

'You have no proof to indicate that I have anything to do with, or am an accomplice in Red John's plans, so I would appreciate it if you assumed me innocent until proven guilty.'

I waited for her to go on, convince me, in my over suspicious state.

'Agent Lisbon, I would never do anything to harm Patrick, you must know that. I've never done anything but help you, so can you please just trust me?'

I stood up out of my seat, the back of my legs sending it skidding back across the floor. As I left, I heard Kristina let out a heavy sigh, and I let the door close behind me.

* * *

'Boss!' I heard Van Pelt call as I marched back into the bullpen.

'Did you find something?'

'I just got a video posted through in an email from RJ. I waited for you before I watched it.'

I briefly saw the subject of the email: _from RJ with love_.

'Ready?'

I nodded, my heart beginning to pound.

Van Pelt pulled up the link to the video and clicked the play button.

I watched as a hand held video camera screen shook, pointing at concrete and the toes of dirtied black boots. There was heavy, low breathing in the background. Slowly, the view moved upwards, catching the back end of a dark blue van, with no registration. My breath caught in my throat as the image rose further, and filled with Jane's body, lying unconscious in the back of the van, dead? No, shut up, of course he's not dead...

His wrists and ankles were secured with plastic tags. There was a small trickle of blood running down his face from a wound just below his hairline. My throat was suddenly dry as bone, and I felt sick to my stomach.

'Where are they?' I managed to get out.

Van Pelt shook her head softly, 'I...don't know.'

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the speakers on the computer. It sounded like a man, but slightly higher pitch.

'_Don't worry...' _A heavy breath... _'He's still alive...as long as he does what I say...' _Another raspy breath. _'If he doesn't...you'll be hearing from Kristina soon...' _The camera hovered on Jane, and it made me want to reach out, making my fingers linger on the screen, but I swallowed it back, keeping my fingers gripping on the back of Van Pelt's chair.

'_Oh...and have a good day.'_

The video stopped, and I was sure that my heart did for a second.

'Damn him,' I murmured, 'If he hurts Jane...'

I wiped my hand across my face and shut my eyes.

'Are you ok?' I heard Van Pelt ask quietly, worriedly.

'Yeah. Fine.' I laughed inwardly. I wouldn't even be able to look ok if I tried. I was stressed, uneasy and tired. The lack of my Jane was causing me more stress and frustration than when he was there. Who would've known? And who would've known that I would end up thinking of him as mine? My fingers traced lightly along my forehead.

'Uh...update Cho and Rigsby ok? And keep digging. Find out everything you can. And find out what's going on with the forensics from the police station. Cho did hold back the demolition yeah?'

Van Pelt nodded.

'Good. I'm going to...uh...'

'Ok. Don't worry. We've got it.'

I could tell that Van Pelt knew how I was feeling, but it wasn't exactly hard to figure out. I nodded before shuffling away, towards my office.

* * *

I collapsed backwards into my chair, causing it to bounce slightly under my sudden weight. I shut my eyes, the darkness behind my lids soothing to my sore, stinging eyes. I brought my hands to my face and drew in a deep breath.

'Why...?' I muttered softly, 'Why was it, Jane, that we had to discover the feelings that we had just before you were taken?'

I clasped my hands in front of me, my elbows resting on the desk. I placed my forehead on my hands, 'Come back ok,' I murmured, 'Come back ok.'

Suddenly, the opening of the door pierced the almost silence, breaking my thoughts apart.

'Boss,' I stated, looking up at Hightower as her head poked through the door.

'Hey Lisbon. How's it all going?'

'Uh...not good I guess.'

Hightower entered fully into my office and took a seat in front of the desk.

'Yes... Van Pelt showed me the video just now.'

I nodded stiffly.

'How are you handling it?'

'Fine. I'm fine,' I lied weakly.

'That doesn't convince me Lisbon.'

I sighed heavily, looking down in my lap.

Hightower cocked her head, the sympathy clear in her expression.

'I'm worried for him,' I murmured, 'I know what Red John does to him, and I don't want to see him have anot-' I stopped, suddenly aware that that was a topic Jane had only shared with me.

'I just don't want to see him get worse. He's already been shaken by the encounter before. We have no idea what's going to happen this time.'

Hightower nodded. 'I gather Frye doesn't know anything?'

I shook my head. 'We've got nothing. The only chance we've got is forensics. We're still waiting on them.'

'Ok...' Hightower replied softly, 'Lisbon?'

'Boss?'

'We will find him. Ok?'

I smiled weakly and nodded. 'Isn't that something you're supposed to say to the family?'

'You and the team _are_ his family.'

* * *

I pressed my hand to the cold metal of the door to Jane's upstairs hideout, sliding it open slowly with a low grinding noise. I stepped in carefully. I wasn't really sure why I was up here. It wasn't as if Jane had planned any of this and would have left clues. But I walked in all the same, moving to the window where I stood, looking out at the view through the slight grime that clung to the cold glass panes. I couldn't really tell whether I was thinking about anything in particular. I was staring into space, my mind a blank. Which was strange really, considering how worried I felt, and how my stomach felt like it was churning and my heart ached and throbbed like it had been in a punch up the night before.

I breathed in and out slowly, the warmth clouding up the window pane slightly. I asked myself why I wasn't doing anything, and why I wasn't _giving_ myself something to do. I turned. I couldn't just hide away and let myself think about how much I just wanted to find him, take him into my arms and hold him forever. Damn it, I couldn't let myself turn any mushier either. I was a god-damn CBI Senior Agent. Emotions weren't professional.

Just as I was about the leave however, something caught my eye. I looked to the right, where Jane's makeshift bed was. Set on the pillow, was Jane's book. I simply stared for a while debating whether to go pick it up and look or not. I looked around the room for some reason, like Jane was hiding behind a pile of rope and chains, ready to jump out if I made the slightest move towards it. I slowly stepped forward, carefully taking the book from its little hollow in the pillow. I wondered why it was here. He usually took it with him, protecting it from anyone else's prying eyes like it was a deep dark secret. That's why I felt so guilty when I flipped the cover open to a scruffily managed page of notes and thoughts. He wouldn't know, right?

* * *

I woke to a throbbing head and heavy limbs. Slowly blinking my eyes open, feeling like I had been swallowed up in a deep sleep for hundreds of years, I tried to focus my vision. Blurry black spots sprinkled across the surroundings, my head spinning. But as I continued to adjust, I felt pressure around my wrists and ankles, and I was suddenly wide awake, struggling against the plastic restraints that cut into my flesh.

I looked around, spinning my head round at break neck speed, trying to find some sort of feature in the environment. I suddenly remembered what had happened, and it all came flooding back, like a bursting dam in my memory. I felt the sting of tears prickling at my eyes as I remembered the last look on Lisbon's face as I disappeared into the old Sacramento police department, remembered the look on Kristina's face just before I fell to the ground unconscious. I felt something dry and stiff on my forehead, and the throb of pain just below my hairline. Dried blood. I suddenly noticed a dark shape in the shadows in front of me.

'You're awake...' A voice murmured. A voice that I couldn't forget if I tried. 'Good...'

I threw one last struggle at the tags binding me to the chair, feeling the tears that had crowded in my eyes begin to overspill. Here we were again. I was tied down, unable to do anything as Red John circled me like a vulture. I felt cold and panicky. I was no longer wearing my jacket, nor the vest that I had been given by Lisbon. My sleeves were rolled up messily and my waistcoat undone.

'What do you want?' I muttered as angrily as I could muster through the choking tears.

'You...needn't worry about that... I just need you to..._behave_._'_

'I don't understand.'

'Just...do what I say and we won't have problems.'

'No,' I snapped.

I heard a soft laugh. 'Let's say if you don't...a few more people than I plan will end up..._dead_.'

I swallowed hard. My heart was beating so hard it could probably launch out of my chest and across the room.

'I won't let you kill anyone.'

'Oh...don't worry, Mr. Jane. I won't be the one doing the killing.'

'W...what do you mean?'

Another laugh, before Red John moved forward towards me. I tried to back away as much as I could. But the chair was fixed. I could do no more than push myself further back into it. I panicked, my heart racing a hundred miles a minute. I saw the glint of a syringe, a clear liquid spurting out of the tip as the plunger was pushed down a little. A strained sob escaped my lips as a rubbery black glove pushed my sleeve further up.

'No!' I cried, as the needle penetrated my skin.

I watched the plunger press downwards, the liquid in the syringe slowly disappearing into my arm. My head fell back, and I met eyes with the same mask I remembered from just a few weeks ago. My vision spun, becoming blurrier by the minute, but I didn't fall unconscious. I just couldn't move as my arms and legs began to feel like lead, my head feeling like it weighed several tons. Tears ran warm and thick down my face and my hands formed weak fists before I was completely paralysed, and my head was so messed up and unclear that I couldn't even think properly, let alone form words.


	8. What Are You Trying To Do?

_**A/N: Love you reviewers :D xxx**_

Chapter 8. What Are You Trying To Do?

Pages upon pages upon pages of scribbles, scruffy writing, mostly indecipherable to me. That was what I could see before me, cradled in my cautious hands. My eyes went left to right, and right to left, trying to decode and understand what covered the crinkled creamy pages. Every now and then, I found a word among the snake pit of letters and pencil marks and drawings:

_Red John. Kristina. Revenge._

My fingers ran lightly along the heavy pencilled letters. I saw a Red John smiley sketched roughly in the corner, slightly overlapped by words. Its ugly tormenting face smiled dangerously off the page at me. My eyes stung and I flipped the rough paper, finding the next double page spread of tortured scribblings. I stared down at them. Jane's personal nightmare.

I almost couldn't believe that this was his book. This looked like the creation of a madman...a crazed person, obsessively noting down every single thing, cramming it in the small spaces that the book provided. My heart ached in my chest, like it was feeling just a tiny piece of the pain that had managed to create what I saw before me. I managed to pick out some new words from the top of the page:

_All my fault. I'm sorry._

And then the bottom:

_Just give her back. Give her back..._

I swallowed hard. How could he possibly have created this? Did he really manage to cover up so much emotion and feeling?

Now I began to wonder what had happened between us, when he obviously missed Kristina so much. I started to feel guilty. Had I really just got in the way of a man who was brokenly searching for the one he wanted back? Had I got in the way at his weakest point, when he was so vulnerable and lost?

I gritted my teeth against the tears that crowded my eyes. This was insane.

Suddenly, I heard a heavy drop on the page. I switched my gaze to the fat drop of moisture that had landed slap bang in the middle of the left hand page. I swore under my breath, pulling the end of my jacket sleeve into my palm and dabbing the page gently, trying not to disturb the pencil markings. The paper began to crinkle around the spot where the tear had fallen.

'Damn it...' I muttered quietly.

'Boss?'

My heart felt like it had stopped as I turned on the stool to find Cho in the doorway. I swivelled back towards the window to swipe away the tears on my face with the dry side of my sleeve.

'Yes?' I answered, as I dabbed the tears from my eyes.

There was a moment's silence, and I knew Cho was silently wondering why I was crying.

'Uh...we thought of somewhere to look.'

'What?' I twisted round so fast my spine could have snapped.

'Not for Jane directly.'

'Oh...What are we looking for?'

'We looked through the case file and the notes, and we thought of something else to do with the second note.'

I stood up, the floor boards creaking slightly beneath my weight. 'Ok...'

Following Cho back downstairs, I took a few deep breaths, looking down at the book I still had secured in my hand. I should have left it behind. It was Jane's, and it really should have been left untouched.

Just outside the bullpen, I told Cho to wait a moment while I went to my office. I carefully slipped the book into my top drawer, locking it up after, making sure it was secure, protecting it like it was a piece of Jane.

Slowly, I made my way back, meeting Cho, Van Pelt and Rigsby in the bullpen.

'What've you got?' I asked.

Van Pelt started. 'Well, the forensics from the police department didn't find anything, but we began looking through everything so far, to see if we'd missed anything. The second note, 'Here lies the soul' etcetera? We thought that maybe it had two meanings.'

I nodded, 'Go on.'

'Well, you and Jane saw the writing in his house, but what if Red John meant two places? Jane's house, and his wife and child's graves?'

'Because, you know, 'here lies' are words you'd find on graves...' Rigsby pointed out.

'And Red John could have tried to imply that Jane's wife and child _were _his soul.' Van Pelt finished.

I nodded slowly, 'That's good. Well done.'

Van Pelt smiled.

'But we don't know-'

'Already sorted,' Van Pelt interrupted, 'I found the names out of some original newspaper prints, and tracked them down using the records of all the graveyards and churchyards around California. Angela and Charlotte Jane are buried in a place called Cherry Hill Rest.'

* * *

Cherry Hill Rest; a tranquil, pretty little place where many loved ones were laid to rest. My eyes travelled across the rich green grass, spotted with well maintained grave stones and small monuments placed in remembrance of lost ones, with cherry blossom trees providing shade, watching over them. I didn't like graveyards, even if they were like this one. All of them automatically make you feel melancholy, reminding you of how much you really missed the ones that you'd lost, and if not, making you feel sad for the ones that had lost someone.

I don't think I'd visited my mother or father's graves more than four times. It too vividly took me back to the times when my father would hole up in his room with several bottles of brandy and hug my mother's pillow to his chest because it still smelled of her. If anyone interrupted, he would become violent; making me and my brother's feel like it was our fault. I still remembered the time where my youngest brother, James, too young to understand, had pushed the door open to the bedroom and had had a bottle blindly thrown at him. It had only just missed, smashing on the wall just beside his head, dribbling the remaining alcohol down the old wallpaper. He had come crying to me, pushing his way into my arms and wildly recalling how daddy had tried to kill him with a bottle of bad stuff.

I pressed down the emotions building up inside me as Cho called me up the road, a little way from where we'd parked.

'Found them, boss!'

I jogged up the road and fell to a walk as I moved up onto the grass, stepping around the headstones before me to reach the place where Cho stood. I found two simple, modest headstones before me. One marked 'Angela Ruskin Jane' and the other marked 'Charlotte Anne Jane'. I crouched slowly before them, simply observing them, finding myself imagining the funeral. I tried to imagine how Jane must have felt on that day. Robbed. Guilt-stricken. The worst pain imaginable filling him from head to toe. I silently paid my respects to the two people that he had loved the most. I couldn't come here simply to search for the next note. It wouldn't be right.

When I was ready, I looked away from the headstones, for any sign of a clue or a note. It was then that I noticed the single red rose resting between the graves. I leaned forward carefully, grasping the flower delicately in my fingers. It was fresh. I guessed it had been there around a day. That meant that it wasn't Jane who'd been here. Red John; had to be. I stood, the head clutched softly in my loose fist. I searched around the ground, for some other accompanying message with the rose, but I couldn't see anything. I quickly looked around the back, but still nothing. My eyebrows creased in mild frustration, and I let out a heavy breath. Staring down at the flower caught with its stem between my middle finger and ring finger, I wondered what was really going on; the purpose of all of this. And then something caught my eye. I carefully pushed my finger tips between the folds of the petals and caught the slip of red paper curled inside. I read through a single line of black writing on the thin strip:

_See you soon, Miss Lisbon x_

I stared, the soft breeze suddenly harsh and chilling.

'Boss?' I heard Cho from behind me.

'It's a note. From Red John,' I replied turning to face my colleague, 'See you soon Miss Lisbon.'

Cho stared at me with one of those seemingly blank stares, but I could see the concern in his eyes.

'What do you think it means?'

'I...don't know,' I replied, shaking my head softly, 'Uh...let's get out of here ok?'

With the rose still in grasp, I began back towards the SUV, my mind racing. Was he coming for me next? What was happening to Jane? I cursed under my breath. I climbed up into the driver's seat and took a few deep breaths, waiting for Cho to climb in. Once everyone was back, I began a slow drive out of Cherry Hill, wondering what was going to happen in the near future.

* * *

I sat snuggled up on my couch at home, my brother's old football shirt swamping my small form. While that note still haunted the back of my mind, I figured I could defend myself if needed. I didn't require protection. And I was too stubborn for anyone to persuade me otherwise.

So for now, cradled in my hand was Jane's book. I felt guilty just for removing it from the upstairs hideout, let alone the entire building, but I was too taken in, too absorbed in trying to properly discover Jane. I hadn't read all of it properly. I was just skimming over the pages, feeling more sympathy for my friend with each passing page. The obsession was heart-breaking.

I tried to imagine how hard it must be to lose your wife and child, then just as you move on, she's taken away too. But even though we now had Kristina back, we had lost Jane in the crossover, and I wasn't even sure Kristina was back in one piece. There was something strange about her. Her minimal amount of care for what had happened, and how she was more interested in telling me that I cared for Jane as more than just a friend. I wanted Jane to come back safely, and if he didn't, and Kristina had something to do with it, I would have no hesitation in arresting her.

I came to the final page in the book that had been used, and I sighed softly, letting my head fall back into the couch cushion behind my head before closing the book softly shut. But that was when I saw more in the very back, just before the cover slapped over the final page. Carefully lifting it open again, I saw the last scribblings, neat and organised compared to the rest. Butterflies were flittering in my stomach as I saw the word at the top of the page, underlined, drawn over several times to create dark messy pencil lines.

_Lisbon_.

I swallowed down hard, and just as I began to read the first line, there was a loud bang at the door. I jumped out of my skin, leaping up from the couch in shock. I looked back down at the cushions briefly, under which I had automatically shoved the book.

I lifted my eyes to the door as I heard another heavy bang. My heart was racing, pounding in my ears, almost deafening me. I tried to push it down as I called out, asking who it was. But there was no reply, other than the door receiving more of a battering.

I suddenly remembered. _See you soon Miss Lisbon..._

I panicked. I ran for my chest of drawers, where I kept my emergency weapon.

'Who's there!' I yelled over the racket as I yanked the drawer open, grappling up my gun. I fumbled with the safety, releasing it and steadily pointing at the door. Suddenly there was silence. My chest ached as it struggled to hold my heart in. My breaths were short, and I struggled to keep them quiet. I strained to hear anything from behind that door.

I began to think that they'd gone. It was starting to feel like an age since the banging had stopped. But then I heard a soft series of metal on metal chinks, and my eyes darted to the lock on the door. I heard the scraping inside the lock, trying to find just the right movement to spring the door open. I moved backwards slowly, my cell phone just behind me on top of the drawers. I kept my eye, and glock, steadily fixed on the door as I reached behind to grab the phone.

I stabbed one of the speed dial numbers while I watched the door, still holding my gun ready, hoping someone would pick up, whoever it would be.

I looked down at the screen briefly, and I realised that I'd pressed the speed dial for Jane.

'Crap...' I muttered, moving to end the call.

But then I heard something, above the scrapings at the door.

_Ring, ring. Ring, ring._

My gaze shot to the door. My eyebrow creased. I looked to the phone, to the door, and back again.

_Ring, ring. Ring, ring._

I stared at the words on my screen. _Calling Jane..._

My heart beating a mile a minute, I heard the sounds from the door stop. I tilted my head, gingerly taking an inquisitive step forward. The sound of the ringing phone grew minutely louder for a moment, before it was stopped. My hands shook, unable to hold my weapon steadily anymore. I looked down at my cell. The call had ended. I halted on the spot as the scraping started up again, followed by a soft click. The door swished inward just a centimetre. My heart was in my throat, and ripples of goosebumps flowed across my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

I watched a hand creep round, half way up, through the split between door and frame. I clenched my jaw tight, my whole body panicking.

I took back the step that I had taken forward. I sent my cell skidding across the carpet, freeing up my other hand to lift my glock, keeping it as steady as physically possible.

Slowly, the door creaked open bit by bit, the hand's knuckles white with the grip that it seemed to hold. My legs were growing weak with just the effort of standing.

And then the torturously slow movements stopped, and the door flung wide open, hitting the hinge's limits and bouncing back fractionally.

My heart stopped.

'Jane!' I cried. I lowered my gun quickly. 'You scared the _shit _out of me!'

He stared at me, deep and cold, like I'd never seen before.

'Jane...are you alright?' I stepped forward, reaching for his arm. I rubbed my thumb softly over his jacketed arm, examining his dishevelled hair and loose buttoned shirt, sticking out from underneath his waistcoat. The original clean light blue was stained with specks of blood and dirt. I looked worriedly into his deep green eyes, searching for something; some kind of answer.

His head tilted to one side fractionally. 'Lisbon...'

'I'm here Jane... what's wrong?' I stroked my hand up and down his arm gently. 'What happened?'

His brow furrowed as if he was trying to dig it up from some deep dark part of his memory.

'I...I don't...' He cocked his head, that same expression on his face. He looked up at me, his lips parting slightly. His brow unfurrowed, like he'd suddenly realised.

'Lisbon...'

I watched his hands travel behind his back, and my breathing quickened as one arm lifted and fell back round to the front, a handgun gripped securely in his hand.

I stared at the weapon, seemingly so comfortably held, despite his fear of firearms. He lifted it, pointing it loosely at me.

'_Jane_...' I warned, 'What are you doing?'


	9. Screwed Up

_**A/N: Well, I must now apologise profusely, as I had told some people that I would try to update sooner, and it actually ended up later... Sorry (she says profusely). BUT, the up side is that this chapter is much longer than the previous, which was a little pathetic at less than four pages, whereas this one is just over 5 pages. :D Hope y'all enjoy :)**_

Chapter 9. Screwed Up.

'Where is she?' he snapped.

'Who?' I replied shakily, staring at the gun pointed at my chest.

'You know. Now tell me where she _is_!'

'Kristina?'

His lip curled softly, and he nodded curtly, searching the room from his spot, as if I was holding her hostage.

'We've got her. She's safe, Jane. _Please..._put down the gun.'

His eyes snapped back to mine. 'That's what you'd like me to do, _isn't _it?'

'I would appreciate it,' I murmured softly.

He smirked, leant forward slightly, and whispered in my ear, 'No.'

I felt sick as he moved back again, looking down at me with a smirk which might have been mischievous if it weren't for the gun in his hand.

'Jane, seriously. Stop messing around. You've already got me ok. I'm scared. Just please stop.'

'I _can't _stop, Lisbon.'

Reluctantly, my grip tightened around my own gun with both hands, but it didn't go unnoticed.

'...You gonna shoot me, Lisbon?'

'I don't know. You gonna shoot me?'

'Maybe.'

'Why?'

His brow furrowed again, but more angrily this time. '...Because you interfered!'

'With what?' I asked, adjusting my grip around my glock.

'You...you messed up my head Lisbon!'

'How?' I tried to stay as calm as possible, looking up into Jane's frenzied, confused, angry face, while always keeping an eye on that brandishing gun he held.

'I was weak...vulnerable...and..._you messed up my head!_'

'Jane...I don't understand...'

'You wouldn't, would you?'

'Help me, Jane. Please. Help me understand what's going on here!'

He swung his gaze around the room in frustration, the gun threatening my stomach.

'You know what you did. You know what you did when you followed me home!'

'Is this about the...?'

'Bullseye, Lisbon. Bingo.'

'Jane, you know that wasn't me. It was you!'

He snorted with laughter. 'Don't try and shift the blame. You were there. You shouldn't have been!'

'I was doing what any good friend would have done! What anyone who _cared _would have done!'

I was beginning to feel stressed, upset. This wasn't my fault, and whatever had happened to Jane whilst he had been gone had made him think that it was. Whatever had happened was making him wave a gun at me like a crazed man.

I wasn't going to lie. I was scared. Jane, no matter how frustrating and troublesome he could be, was one of my best friends, he was family, and Red John had messed with his head again. He had a gun in his hand for god's sake. I could still remember his face, the way he threw away that shotgun that he'd shot Sheriff Hardy with, with such fear. This side of Jane was frightening me. This wasn't even Jane. I was silently wishing, over and over again, that we would be able to reverse the effect that Red John had had on him, whatever that was. I just had to somehow get out of this situation...

Jane looked down at me like what I had said had struck a chord, made him realise something. His expression was more of bitterness now.

'I didn't need anyone... I was fine.'

'You and I both know that's not true. We all need someone, Jane.'

He didn't reply, only looked at me. I could see his handgrip loosen slightly around the gun. I was weakening his defences.

'Now...you gonna give me that gun?'

Jane's gaze flickered down to the weapon he had hold of. I saw his hand twitch towards me, internally debating whether to give it up or not. I swallowed, moving my own hand forward just a little.

Then something reversed in Jane's head, and he held the gun back.

'No... stop it! You're playing with my head again!'

He drew it up with both hands, pointing it right between my eyes. I clenched my jaw. I swore internally.

'Jane, please,' I murmured, 'I don't know what Red John's done to you, but you're not thinking straight. You would never pick up a gun unless you desperately needed to!'

'Be quiet! Red John hasn't done anything, it's only you!'

I groaned softly before I ducked underneath the gun and behind Jane to send my elbow crashing into his back, making him stumble forwards. I ran for the door, grappling my keys on the way out and sprinting as fast as I could, ignoring the cold on my skin. As I ran along the balcony and down the stairs, I heard a shot fire off behind me. I ducked as the plaster on the wall ahead crumbled with the impact of the bullet. My heart was racing, the continuous rhythm pounding an ache into my head.

The stairs seemed to be so much longer now, and it was hard to believe that they would ever end. But soon enough I was stumbling across the car park, my hair whipping across my face as I sent hurried glances behind me, seeing Jane round the stair rail and begin running towards me. The rough concrete was sharp against my bare feet, sending spikes of pain up my legs, but I could barely register it. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, replacing the fear that had taken hold earlier. I shoved the key into the car door, cursing as it slipped a few times. Eventually, the door swung open and I clambered in, Jane just a couple of meters away from the rear bumper.

The engine grumbled as I brought it to life, as if I'd awakened it too early from its night of rest. I slammed the SUV into reverse, sending it flying backwards out of its space. I cringed as I clipped Jane on the way back, and I couldn't help a glance in the rear view mirror to check if he was ok. I let out a sigh of relief as he clambered up from the floor unhurt.

I took my gaze back to the road ahead, my breathing heavy in my throat. Slamming my head back into the head rest, I gritted my teeth, blocking off the watering in my eyes. I leant over and dropped open the glove compartment, pulling out the cell phone I always had in the SUV. Finding Cho's number I lifted the phone to my ear and looked back at the road again. Barely any light still existed apart from the SUV head lights, casting a ghostly glow across the concrete. The stars twinkled softly amongst the darkness in the sky. It would have been a beautiful night if I had the time to admire it, but right now, I had to call Cho.

* * *

I watched as the SUV drove out of the parking lot, away from me. I sunk to the ground, scrunching my eyes tight shut and throwing the gun across the concrete. My head throbbed like something was battling to escape from its walls. My eyes stung with tears, moisture squeezing from between my lids. My fingers threaded through my hair, scrunching it up in tight fistfuls. I cried out. The pain was unbearable. It felt like the left side of my brain was battling the right side, like there was a second, suppressed consciousness trying to break through. There was a voice in my head, so quiet and muffled that I couldn't properly make out what it was trying to say.

I slowly, painfully pulled myself up, my bleary eyes searching the surroundings while my hand still clutched the side of my head. I began to stumble back towards her apartment, leaving the gun behind.

* * *

'Cho!' I cried with relief.

'Boss?'

'I found Jane,' I grimaced.

'Where?'

'He dropped by my apartment.'

'What happened?'

'Uh...he tried to shoot me.' I tried to laugh about it, but I couldn't. I was too worried...or scared...or I didn't know.

'Are you alright?'

I heard worry lacing his speech and I found it strange how Cho didn't question why Jane would shoot at me, or what had happened to him, only whether I was ok.

'Yeah, I'm fine. I don't know where he is now though.'

'Where are you?'

'In the SUV, I'm going back to CBI, ok? Meet me there?'

'Sure...shall I call the others?'

'Yeah, tell them to get to headquarters too.'

'Ok.'

Cho hung up, leaving me alone in the SUV again. The adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, and my heartbeat was only just beginning to settle. I brought both hands to the steering wheel and took in a deep breath. I focused on the darkness ahead of me, every so often illuminated with another traveller. I began to wonder where Jane would go now. Would he return to Red John? Wait for me at the apartment? Try to follow me? I found myself checking over my shoulder every so often, searching for a pair of headlights that were following me. But none were there.

I rolled my shoulder, exercising the arm and elbow that had shoved Jane so roughly. It ached and panged, and I hoped it hadn't hurt him too much, but being gentle hadn't been an option with a Jane so changed that he could fire bullets after me. I could still hear the faint echo of the bullets pummelling plaster. I cursed Red John. I couldn't even think of why he was doing this to our team; to Jane and I, other than one big game. Maybe it had some deeper meaning, or maybe it was an attempt to break down our relationships; make us weaker. I didn't know, but I just wanted everything back to relative normality again. I didn't want to dare think what Jane would feel after all this had passed...if it did...if we ever sorted him out again. I found my foot pressing harder on the accelerator as the CBI got closer and closer.

* * *

I pulled a fresh black vest top and slacks from my locker at the headquarters. I felt cold and vulnerable in my oversized shirt. Quickly putting the new clothes on, depositing my football shirt in my locker and grabbing a spare jacket from the hangar inside, I walked out, pulling the jacket on as I went. I started to think of plans. Not for my own protection, but to find Jane again. The last thing I wanted to happen was that he ended up back with Red John, where he was vulnerable again. I hoped that he would actually have gone back to my apartment to wait for me, even if he was trying to kill me.

How did Red John even know about what had happened at the Jane's house? The plan had been at work long before that had ever happened... Or maybe it was Red John's plan to turn Jane on someone in the team. Maybe he'd somehow found out and used it to enhance his plan; turned those feelings around into hatred. I shook my head silently. This was a dangerous game, and I'd started to wish that I had never let Jane go inside that Police Department alone. Even if Red John had taken me, or whoever else in the process, at least there would have been someone with him. Maybe they could have stopped this all before Jane was brainwashed...or hypnotised...or whatever the hell had happened to him.

I found myself striding into the bullpen pretty soon, the few lights now on casting ghostly shadows behind desks and furniture. I didn't let my eyes venture to Jane's corner. I dug my hands deep into my pockets. All three of my agents were there. If my consultant was there, right as rain, we wouldn't need to be here at all, and I wouldn't need to be awkwardly stood among three sets of prying eyes.

'What happened?' Van Pelt asked worriedly.

'Well...Jane showed up.'

'What? Where? Is he ok?'

'Not exactly... He picked my lock and pointed a gun at me.'

'What?'

'Are you alright?' Rigsby asked, looking a little unsettled, 'How did you escape?'

'That doesn't matter,' I replied, subconsciously rolling my shoulder, 'What matters is that we need to find him soon, before he gets back to Red John or something.'

'So...he's been hypnotised then?'

Van Pelt looked a little scared at the prospect of Jane threatening one of us with a gun.

'Quite possibly,' I answered.

'But...how? We've all been around Jane long enough to learn that you can't hypnotise someone against their will...right?'

'I don't know...but Red John obviously succeeded, which either means he's far skilled than we think, or he did something that stopped Jane from retaliating...physically and mentally.'

Van Pelt looked agitated now. Her expression was full of worry. 'Poor Jane...' she murmured, 'Imagine what he's going to be like when he realises what he's been forced to do...'

I swallowed, looking down at the floor. When I looked back up, Rigsby was gently rubbing Van Pelt's arm, soothing her unease.

'Do you think Jane's still at your apartment?' Cho asked.

'I don't know.'

Rigsby switched gazes from the youngest agent to me, 'It's worth a look. If we can find him and get him here safe, we can fix him right?'

I nodded once, pushing my hands further into my pockets. None of us seemed to move for a moment, and I felt Cho's hand on my shoulder.

'Are you ok?'

I stared up at him, considering all the things I could say.

No, I didn't ever expect to find one of the people who I care about most pointing a gun at me.

No, I'm scared.

No, I'm worrying about whether we'll be able to get Jane back.

No, I'm worried that if we do get him back, he might finally break.

'...Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go.'

Cho simply seemed to examine my face for a moment, before gently nodding in the direction of the elevator. Rigsby and Van Pelt soon followed. We were all worried sick about Jane, in our own ways. I think we all were wondering what it would be like facing off to a Jane who was a stranger to us all, and whether we would be able to change him back completely. It was a solemn, silent walk to the elevator, and on the way down, there was a thick, uncomfortable atmosphere.

I closed my eyes on the journey, soothing the stinging tiredness that I realised now existed. The back of my lids were like a cinema screen, playing out the events that had happened at my apartment over and over again like a broken video until the soft ping of the elevator brought me back to the headquarters. I let out a long exhaling breath, blowing through my slightly parted lips.

Once in the car park, we all made our way towards the van. I folded my arms tightly across my chest, in some dismal attempt to bar the late night cold from sending shivers through me. Cho unlocked the doors, and I climbed into the passenger seat. The engine grumbled as he flicked the key in the ignition, and soon we were out on the road. I was lost in space, staring out beyond the road in front of us. The warm orangey glow of the street lights spotted the road, the van running them over every couple of seconds. The continuous, smooth flashes of light were hypnotic. A few minutes later, my eyes refocused and I looked in the corner of my eye at Cho in the driver's seat.

'I want to go in first,' I broke the silence.

Cho looked over at me briefly.

'Are you sure that's a good idea?' Rigsby asked from behind.

I didn't reply, only switched my absent gaze to the car window. I ignored any attempts to change my mind. If he was there, and by any chance he could remember any of the things he felt from a few nights ago, I might just have a chance to calm him. Surely there would be more of a sensitive connection between he and I, than any of the others.

* * *

Edging across the car park outside my apartment building, I could see my door on the second floor still wide open where it had been left from before. I took deep, calming breaths as my feet shuffled across the concrete. My eyes trained on the door above, I didn't take the time to notice a disposed gun on the ground in front of me until my right foot collided with it and sent it skidding a little further away. My gaze switched to the weapon I recognised as the one Jane had had. My eyebrows creased for just a moment before I quickly crouched down and scooped it up. Why was it here? Did he drop it while he left? Was he coming back for it? Or had he thrown it away? I flicked the safety catch and carefully tucked the gun into the back of my waistband, progressing towards the stairs again.

With the team behind me, I climbed the two flights of stairs, casting a brief look over the bullet hole in the plastered wall that I'd seen so many times since it had actually happened. I could now see the glow of my apartment's lights leaking onto the balcony I was stood on, just a few metres away. My heart was pounding again. A swift night breeze came whistling through the bars of the rail beside me, and I shivered softly, cold tingling in my limbs. I looked briefly behind me, checking that the team was still there.

Slowly, I began to creep along the expanse of concrete balcony. I stopped just shy of the door, carefully edging my vision around the door frame. I couldn't see any activity so far, at least not in the main room. I nodded back at the team and slid into the room silently. The apartment was silent. I motioned for the team to stay downstairs and check the kitchen, while I went upstairs to search bedroom and bathroom. Alone now, I carefully pushed into the bedroom after having looked in the bathroom. I didn't know why Jane would be up here if he had still been around. But I checked all the same, only to find the room undisturbed, and Jane-less.

I regrouped with the team down in the main room.

'He's not here,' I sighed. I cast a hopeless glance around the room, frustrated that we hadn't got back in time. But that was when I saw the book laid open on the table. Jane's book. The one I had stuffed beneath the cushions. I frowned as I stepped forward.

'What is it, boss?' Rigsby asked.

I examined the pages on which the book was open.

My breathing quickly stepped up several paces again.

_Lisbon._

It was the page that I hadn't been able to read. I cautiously took up the book on my hand and began to read it, realising that Jane must have seen and read it too.

_Lisbon, I can't say I understand, but last night, I didn't dream of my family. I didn't dream of Red John, I didn't dream about a single thing to do with my personal pains...I could only think of you...what happened between us the evening before. That's the first night that I've ever been able to dream on anything else. One day I'll apologise for putting us in this situation, but I can't remember ever feeling so much love for someone since Angela. I couldn't deny the appreciation I felt for what you said to me..._

_I don't know what this means for us in the future. I hope there'll be nothing awkward between us. If you're ever not there, I don't know what I'd do. I know I've been drifting away lately, and I hope you understand that it was only for your protection. My past doesn't allow me to get close...but now, I think I've got myself too deep to climb back out again._

_But hell, why am I even writing this? It's like I'm talking to you, but in a book. It's not as if you'll ever read this..._

_Well, at least if I ever tell you any of this, I'll have a prepared speech. _


	10. Where Are You?

_**A/N: Ok, Long, LONG time since update. Sorry 'bout that. Two reasons: Part of me hoped for some more reviews, seen as I only got one when I first published the chapter...I just got a second like...yesterday, made me extremely happy. And two, when I'd left the writing for this chapter for a while, I'd left it in a place where I just looked at it and simply had no inspiration for the next bit. But after much brain working and revelation, I managed to continue it. It's frustrating when you have cool ideas for the rest of the story, but you just can't get past that one bit. But hey...success! Hope you enjoy. Happy New Year to everyone by the way. :)**_

Chapter 10. Where are you?

I'd waved it off as nothing to the team back at the apartment...but internally, my stomach was doing flips. That one moment between us had had such an effect...

It was time to return it. The book. I shouldn't have taken it in the first place, and now I'd read what Jane had thought I would never see, or what he wasn't ready to tell me. Something that would make our relationship so much more complicated now that I knew, but he didn't think I knew... wait, would he know? He'd seen it now, even in his state. Would he remember finding it? Rigsby must have eventually recalled kissing Van Pelt in his hypnosis... Jane's mind was sharper. I'd quickly got upstairs to his hideout again, placing it onto the pillow in exactly the same position as I'd found it, safely nestled in its little hollow. Was I thinking that if it was in _exactly _the same position, that Jane wouldn't remember it ever having left? Maybe. It was all I could do. I scoured the room, making sure everything was in place before I swiftly left, back down to the break room.

I poured myself a mug of coffee, carefully sipping the hot liquid. It sent warm ripples through me as I felt it travel downwards. I shivered a little.

What would Jane do now? He'd read what he'd written only a couple of days ago. Was he having an internal battle with himself? Trying to figure out what he'd meant? Where would he have gone? What was there even to do now for us? The forensics lab hadn't brought us anything from the police department except from a load of dust and old, unrelated fingerprints and evidence of people having used the building.

I wandered over to the bullpen, meeting with my team.

'So...what happened last night?' Rigsby asked.

I wandered a little further, leaning back against Jane's desk.

'I was sat at home, just reading, and there's this loud banging at the door. There was no reply when I asked who it was. It stopped, and then there was scratching at the door, someone trying to pick the lock. I picked up my phone and my gun, trying to ring one of you, but I accidentally pressed the speed dial for Jane because I wasn't looking at the phone. I was about to hang up, but I heard ringing from outside the door...'

The three agents listened attentively as I continued. I saw Rigsby swallow nervously.

'Eventually, the door opened and Jane came in. I asked whether he was ok, and he pointed a gun at me.'

The team looked at each other worriedly.

'It's all because of Kristina.'

'Kristina?' Cho repeated.

'He was angry at me...because of what happened to Kristina. He seemed to think I had her...' I wasn't lying. I just wasn't telling them everything.

'Why would he think that?' Van Pelt asked.

I couldn't tell them what had happened. It was between me and Jane. Personal. For one, there were work regulations, and two, nothing had properly happened. It was something that I just refused to share.

'I don't know.'

The three agents shared confused looks before setting their eyes back on me.

'What are we going to do then?'

'Apart from wait for Jane to make an appearance again?' I replied, 'We've got nothing. I've sent off Jane's gun to ballistics...but there's a low chance of anything coming back.'

'Well we can't just sit here,' Rigsby pointed out.

'Jane's in trouble...' Van Pelt murmured worriedly.

'What do you want to do?' I snapped frustratedly, 'Red John's far too meticulous to leave anything behind, and there's nothing to process. We've gone as far as we can with the information Red John left behind. It's doubtful that it's even related to him.'

Silence fell, and I took a shaky sip of my coffee. The warmth wasn't comforting anymore. I'd just solidified the fact that we had nothing to do, and I couldn't help myself being worried sick about what Jane was doing right now. If something, only the tiniest thing, had been left behind, we'd have at least something to look at, but there was nothing.

'We _could_ talk to Kristina again. See if she'll say anything else,' Cho suggested.

I watched the warm brown liquid in my mug lap at the ceramic walls. I'd found Kristina unbearable when I'd talked with her last. She didn't seem to care what was happening to Jane. I'd only just been able to restrain myself from hitting her. I swallowed. I hoped Red John had done something to her to make her act like that, because I really hoped that if Jane ever had a relationship with her, she'd give more of a damn. She didn't deserve him right now.

I drank the rest of my coffee and placed the mug on Jane's desk before standing fully and nodding for Cho to accompany me to Kristina's interrogation room.

* * *

'Wayne?'

Rigsby's gaze flickered from Lisbon and Cho leaving, over to me at my desk. 'Grace?'

'We've got to do something. Go back. Find something else.'

'Where?'

'Any of the places that Red John has sent us before. There's got to be _something_. Something we missed.'

I knew there was little hope; that I was probably clutching at straws, but I saw the way Lisbon was in a state, feeling less and less confident in her ability to find Jane before something went wrong - snapping at us. I knew I was usually the one to feel worried sick when something like this happened, but Lisbon seemed to be in a worse state this time, and for what reason, I didn't know. Despite the gun that Jane had pointed at her, and the fact that Red John was the centre of all this, I would have thought that Lisbon would have been more composed than this. I could tell that my boss was trying to hide things from us - worry, anxiousness, fear maybe, but it wasn't working all that well. Long silences, far away looks...it was obvious that something was picking at her.

Rigsby nodded once, 'Ok.'

* * *

Cho and I faced Kristina across the table. She seemed absent, and didn't once look up from the table at the two agents staring at her. I looked at Cho briefly, who gave me what I believed was a reassuring flicker of a smile, before starting.

'Jane came back,' I began, hoping it would generate some sort of reaction...but Kristina didn't look up.

'Tried to kill me...know anything about that?' I asked calmly, as if it was nothing. It was apparently nothing to Kristina though. I watched her finger nail scraping across the desk in the same motions over and over again.

'Kristina?' I glanced at Cho, who returned the same sort of confused expression.

'Kristina, do you know anything about what's happening? Is there anything you can tell us?'

It was like she couldn't hear me. I turned my gaze to the table, where her finger nail was still scraping, now beginning to create wearing marks on the shiny surface of the table.

'Cho...what does that look like to you?'

I tilted my head slightly to be able to see what she was drawing in the shine of the lights. Cho did the same.

'...A Red John smiley,' he murmured.

I felt dryness in my throat as I continued to watch her trace over and over the eyes and mouth, scratching down tears as if it were blood trickling down a wall. I started to fear for what it meant. Had Red John hypnotised her to do this in the hope that Jane would have killed me by now? Or was it a warning? Was it a warning to say that Jane would die if he didn't do what he was told? My breathing stepped up several paces and I felt mildly dizzy. Jane hadn't managed to kill me...did that constitute failure?

I felt light-headed as I stood and threw open the door. I half walked, half jogged to my office, before sinking to the floor behind the door, out of sight. I tried to persuade myself that I was jumping to conclusions. It didn't necessarily mean anything. I pulled my knees up to my chin and let my head fall back against the wall.

'Calm,' I told myself inwardly, 'Nothing's going to happen.'

* * *

I walked amongst the dust and dirt of the deserted house in Knight's Parkway. This had been the most relevant place to check, considering that we didn't know much about it, and it was a more likely place to find any evidence or information. Rigsby walked just behind me, scanning the walls and floors, scouring every inch of the surroundings. Remembering the warning Jane had given about the crumbling ceiling just ahead, I quickly moved away from it, to the other side, warning Rigsby at the same time. Searching the ground floor and finding nothing, I came upon a set of stairs towards the back of the house, leading to the upper floor.

It immediately hit me that it was going to be extremely unsafe walking on the floors above, considering the state of the ceilings on the ground floor, but I couldn't just leave it if something important was up there. I called to Rigsby, telling him I would be going upstairs and probably shouldn't stand anywhere where there was a dodgy ceiling. He protested, naturally, but I refused to be swayed as I began up the creaking steps. A threadbare carpet runner led up the centre of the staircase, probably once a rich red, but now an empty, unenthusiastic brownish orange colour. I could see cracks spreading from underneath the runner, as thin as a single hair, weaving across the worn wood like spider webs. The strain got worse as I climbed, the creaking becoming louder, but I refused to stop. My heart was pounding in my ears, but I refused to listen.

I reached the top, letting out a long breath. I observed the corridor reaching out to the left. I could see branches and twigs poking up through the floor just beyond. Daylight poured through large holes in the ceiling above, illuminating the corridor with dusty streams of glowing yellow. I swallowed and made the first step forward, the floor screaming out, warning of imminent collapse. I pushed down the fear and edged along the wall to the first door on the right, stepping through a thick column of light. I stopped, reaching my hand out and pushing open the door to a small room with two windows, one on the wall opposite and one on the next wall round to the right. The room had a bare bed frame, but no more.

I switched my gaze back to the corridor, looking straight across at another door, pushed wide open. I tilted my head carefully, looking round into the room. My heart almost skipped a beat. On the furthest wall inside that room, were lines upon lines of drawings, scattered on the peeling wallpaper.

'Wayne!' I called. I heard him answer, his voice thick with worry, but I was far too excited to really pay attention, 'I just found Red John's room!'

Well, actually it wouldn't have been Red John's room, because his mother was only six when the place was deserted, but he'd been here, obviously. He'd found out about it somehow, and came here to see. A whole story line began to form in my head:

One day, Jacob, before he became Red John, had asked his mother about his grandmother; how she had died, and what she was like. Alayna had recalled what she could remember about her, and it brought her back to the damaged child she became when she stumbled upon her mother's body. She began to remember her mother so vividly that she fell into a whole new process of mourning and heartbreak. Eventually it drove her to the edge of insanity, and she killed herself, leaving Jacob and Eleanor alone, without their mother. Jacob found the house in which his grandmother had lived maybe a few years later, an injured soul, and he'd began to think about it all, and he'd started to draw smiling faces on the wall with paint, trying to cheer him up, maybe trying to remind himself of his mother when she used to smile.

I stared across at the dozens of smiley faces covering the walls inside the opposite room. They were all rough images, with some kind of resemblance to the Red John smiley face we knew now. Completely transfixed, I stepped forward, forgetting the condition of the floor until my foot went straight through it. I cried out as I fell forwards, my leg caught in the floor boards. My face almost slammed into the floor, but I just managed to keep it up.

'Are you alright?' Rigsby yelled up, hearing my stumble and crash.

'Uh...' I tried breathlessly, 'Sort of.'

I groaned as I tried to push myself up. I lay flat on the floor, my right leg disappearing through the hole, and my other leg stretched out behind me. Pushing with my hands as if I was trying to do press-ups, I got up onto all-threes, my upper leg now visible. I could feel bruises already forming in a thick ring round my thigh. Slowly, I managed to pull the other half of my leg up, carrying a torn pant leg, which itself carried a few splinters.

'Oww...' I muttered, rubbing my bruised leg as I hobbled over to the corner of the landing by the stair rail.

'I'm ok!' I called back down. I ignored the new throbbing in my leg and stood up fully again, edging round to the room I had tried to get to before weakening the house's structure a little more.

'Phew,' I blew out, standing in the door way of the room. My breathing began to slow again and I stepped inside, the floor to this room in a much better condition than that of the hallway. Yellow painted smiling faces grinned off the wall at me from all directions. I slowly reached for my pocket, pulling out my camera phone and taking snapshots of all four walls. As the smileys progressed around the wall, they came to look more and more like the current smiling face we saw at each Red John crime scene.

At first, they were neat, normal, but then they became rougher, dripping more, like tears falling from their eyes, and black paint had started to take the place of the bright happy yellow, then finally to faded crimson. It wasn't blood; it was peeling away from the wall, cracked and thick. No DNA. The room was otherwise bare, apart from some old blankets and flea-bitten pillows in the far corner. I turned, studying the pictures on my phone briefly before leaving and getting back to Rigsby with a slight limp in my step.

'Look,' I murmured softly, holding out the phone to him.

He cycled through the pictures, 'So...this is Red John practicing his calling card?'

'Not at first, I don't think,' I replied, 'I think this was because of what happened to his grandmother and mom. I'm thinking he found out about this place after his mom killed herself. And maybe...he tried to remind himself of his mother when she was happy...smiling. But maybe...he became more and more obsessed, until it got too much.'

Rigsby nodded, swallowing.

'So the clues were for something then I guess.'

'It doesn't help us find Jane though...' I murmured quietly.

'Don't worry. Let's just take it back to the CBI and see whether we can work with it. Maybe, if it's anything like what you've said there might be a record in a psychiatric hospital of either Alayna or Jacob.'

I nodded giving a flicker of a smile. 'Ok.'

* * *

I stirred my cup of tea, tendrils of steam curling and folding into the softly illuminated air around me. I took a sip of the hot brown liquid, looking up briefly at the set of three computer monitors before me. A flashing dot marked where Jane was on a map of California, with closer and closer shots on the second and third screen. I'd placed a small tracker inside his waistcoat before sending him on his way. I needed to make sure he did what I wanted him to do. My lips curled softly in a wicked smile before I took another gulp of tea. I let my head fall back a little, scratching the back of my neck, rolling my head to the side. I felt the warmth of the tea gathered in my stomach, sending out warming ripples at all angles. I was in control, and it felt so good.

However, when I let my gaze fall back to the screens, I saw the flashing dot flicker a little...

My stomach filled with a flittering nervous feeling as the dot flickered a little more, falling in and out of existence for maybe a second at a time. I leant forward slowly, narrowing my eyes. It was flickering violently now...like the signal was going...

I pushed my tea cup and saucer onto the wooden table with a soft scrape, as I stared intently at the screens. The dot disappeared for a few seconds...and then it was gone. My heart began to speed as I tapped at the keyboard, pressing keys, whizzing the mouse around the screen, trying to find Jane again. There was a brief flash of the dot once more as I slammed down the enter button, but it was gone again before I could barely register it.

'What the hell?' I muttered. Nothing was getting the dot back... 'Shit...'

**_Reviews Please?_**


	11. Letting It All Out

_**A/N: Haha! A pretty early update for once XD **_

_**PLEASE READ THIS: Well, this was a mildly stressful chapter - not in itself, but because I realised that I'd made a major screw up in my writing. It was basically that when I said Red John's Grandmother had been killed in 1920, I realised, getting to this chapter, that it was supposed to have been Great Grandmother, and it meant that Red John would currently have to be at least about 60... so yeah, I was kicking myself for a while, whilst trying to figure out what to do. Well, I went back to the beginning, and changed the numbers, enabling the Grandmother to be used, because changing it all to Great Grandmother would be far too complicated and would mess up my story. So, it would probably be good if you could check out chapters two and five, which are the chapters that got the more important changes I believe. (Figuring out the meaning of the numbers in 2, Van Pelt's update for Lisbon in 5 and also, because it's such a small bit and probably not worth you trying to find, Red John's mom killed herself one year before Red John became Red John).**_

_**Thank you. Apologies. **_

Chapter 11. Letting It All Out.

I handed Lisbon my phone, butterflies flitting inside my stomach.

'We went back to the house in Knight's Parkway to see if we missed anything. Seems we did.'

I watched as my boss ran her finger along the phone's screen, sliding through the pictures of the hundred or so Red John smileys that I'd photographed inside the crumbling old house's upstairs room.

'What are all these? Practices?'

'I think these are the first smileys that Red John ever drew. They weren't meant as the calling card at first, but they slowly progressed, like he was slowly driving himself mad. See the yellow? That was the first colour. He must have used that when he first started, trying to make them happy and bright, but then he progressed to black, and finally to red. I think that was the time at which he was practicing the calling card. I called forensics to check the room - make sure that all the red smileys were paint and not blood. I mean all of them looked like paint, but I might not have seen them all properly,' I finished with a small intake of breath.

'Well done,' Lisbon praised, but her voice was quiet, 'Good...initiative.'

She handed my phone back. I pushed it into my pocket, a smile flickering across my face, 'We're going to look further into it. See if maybe he or his mother was checked into a psychiatric hospital at any point.'

Lisbon nodded. 'Good.'

I half turned towards my computer desk, ready to sit and surf the net for what I needed, before I stopped and turned back again.

'Uh...Lisbon?'

'Yeah?' she replied a little absently.

'Are you...alright?'

'Fine,' Lisbon lied to me, a slightly higher pitch to her voice, 'Why wouldn't I be?'

I tilted my head a little, looking concernedly at her. 'You just seem to be a little...absent...worried. More than usual.'

She took a moment to reply to me, giving me an almost surprised look, '...Ja-' she stopped. 'I'm fine.'

I looked down at the file I held in my hands, my gaze moving up to Lisbon's face again briefly, 'Ok,' I replied, with that flicker of a smile again, but it felt sadder than before. I returned to my desk, placing the file onto the table as I slid into my chair. I cast a look over my shoulder. I watched Lisbon's eyes flick in the direction of Jane's worn old couch before she left the bullpen.

A soft sigh parted my lips before I brought up the search engine on my computer.

* * *

'Ugh,' I muttered, giving the keyboard one final hit. A string of curses fell off my tongue as I slouched back into my chair. With Jane gone, I wouldn't know where he was or what was going on. It had all seemingly been going to plan. He had gone to his colleague's apartment, where hopefully everything had gone as it should have, and then he should have made his way back here, to me. But now the transmitter was out, for whatever reason, and that meant I didn't know whether he was coming back here or whether he'd been distracted, or caught...

I clenched my jaw, slinging my feet up on the desk surface and picking up my cup of tea. I took a sip, but I curled my lip and rejected it back to the table. It had gone luke-warm. I'd spent more time than I'd thought, thinking that I could get back the transmitter's signal back by hitting the key board like it was a game of whack-a-mole.

'Now look what you did Jane. My tea's cold,' I muttered.

I rested my head on the back of the chair, arms folded across my chest. Plan B I guess.

* * *

I looked out of the SUV's window at the psychiatric centre which was stood three miles from Knight's Parkway: Sacramento County Mental Health Treatment Centre, situated on Stockton Boulevard. Driving into the car park around the right turn entrance and pulling into a space off to the right, I applied the handbrake and killed the engine. This was the longest standing centre of all of the most local places, so I had decided, with Rigsby, that this would be the best place to look. I pushed open the heavy door and slipped from the seat onto the tarmac beneath. I marched towards the entrance, Rigsby in tow. Walking up the tree lined pathway to the entrance, I took a deep intake of cool air to my lungs, blowing it out slowly through only slightly parted lips.

Approaching the doors, they slid open automatically, granting access to the reception area. I strode confidently to the front desk. Light pine wooden panels covered the floor, and cream walls surrounded me, creating a sense of relaxation. I smiled down at the receptionist sat behind the desk, who returned the welcoming gesture.

'Hey there, I'm Grace Van Pelt, CBI,' I showed my badge to the young dark haired woman. 'We're investigating a case which may have connections to this centre. Would it be possible to see your patient records?'

'Uhh...I'm not sure about that...let me call Dr. Gareths.'

'We've...got a warrant,' I told her, holding out the warrant that Hightower had managed to procure for us.

The receptionist leant forward, examining the document, 'Ok, but I'll still need to inform Dr. Gareths.'

I waited patiently as the woman took up the phone receiver and pressed the speed dial for the doctor. I glanced at Rigsby stood beside me, who was leaning on the desk casually, his ankles crossed. We exchanged a brief smile before I heard the receptionist put the phone down and tell me that Dr. Gareths would be with us momentarily.

I nodded, a smile flitting across my lips.

It was about thirty seconds before I saw a tall, handsome grey haired man walk through a door to the left of the reception with a tired smile on his face as he met eyes with the receptionist. His face was deep set with wrinkles of either stress or age, probably a mix of both, but you could still see the attractive features beneath. He approached the desk, a white lab coat hanging off his well built frame, overlaying a shirt and jumper, and grey slacks. He offered a kindly smile in mine and Rigsby's direction. 'CBI? I'm Eli Gareths, what can I do for you?'

I smiled and nodded before proceeding to explain that we needed to see the centre's records to find out whether anyone under the name of Alayna or Jacob Immerson had been a patient between 1996 and 2000, due to the connection with on ongoing investigation. I offered the warrant, showing our authorisation to look at such files before he mentioned the doctor - patient confidentiality.

Eli checked over the document, nodding slowly. 'Ok...everything's in check here... well, I'm sure Natalie here can help you onto a computer and get you the right files up,' he cast a glance at the receptionist with a nod.

'Thank you,' I smiled, taking back the warrant.

'Of course,' Eli replied, before departing through the same door he'd entered.

Natalie motioned to a second computer beside her, 'You can use this one.' She leant over and logged on as I rounded the desk to take the seat in front of the monitor. She navigated the mouse to a records file and double-clicked, bringing up a search engine.

'There you go,' Natalie rolled her chair back to her own computer and watched briefly as I slid mine up. Rigsby stepped up behind me as I began to type.

'Evelyn...Immerson...' I murmured, typing the name into the forename and surname fields. I entered 1964 into the birth year box and tapped the enter key. I was returned with a blank screen, '_No records match your search.'_

Returning to the search criteria screen, I retried with Jacob Immerson, 1983.

'_No records match your search.'_

I slumped in my seat. 'They're not there.'

'Uh...try the sister, Eleanor,' Rigsby suggested, 'You never know.'

'Yeahhh...ok.' I re-did the search: Eleanor Immerson, 1983. While I wasn't aware of any reason why the Eleanor would have been admitted, rather than her mother or brother, it was always going to be worth a chance. We didn't know anything about this family really, apart from the fact that it had been stricken with death and loss.

'Eureka,' I murmured, a smile picking up the corners of my mouth. On the screen before me was one search result: Eleanor Immerson, born 28th January 1983, admitted on the 5th July 2000.

'She was admitted two months before the first Red John killing,' I read out, in a voice so only Rigsby could hear.

'So what do you think? She went a bit crazy because of Jacob?'

'It says here that she was absent and unresponsive to the doctors. Rigsby, she drew faces on the wall with her own blood.' I looked up at Rigsby, who swallowed nervously, his gaze flickering to mine and back to the screen.

I looked back to the file. She was moved to another facility in Fresno in 2001 for permanent care.

'She's in Fresno. Red John's sister is in Fresno, Wayne.'

There was a short stretch of silence before Rigsby replied. 'Three hours away, right?'

I shrugged. 'Something like that.'

'Well we'll check in with Lisbon and tell her, and then we can go find Eleanor.'

I nodded, and clicked to print off the file.

* * *

'Sorry. I can't get anything out of her,' Cho told me, striding into the bullpen after having been in that interrogation room with Kristina for about twenty minutes. 'All she'll do is draw that smiley over and over.'

'I don't understand what he's done to her...' I replied, from my position on Jane's couch. I sat with my legs crossed, and my forearm resting over the other. I had a steaming cup of coffee on Jane's desk in front of me. 'She was acting like she was reasonably normal, and now she's drawing smileys on the table like she's been driven mad.'

'I don't know...' Cho said, sitting back in his chair.

'Can hypnotism work in stages?'

'Either that or she's putting on one hell of a performance.'

I looked up from running my thumb over my middle finger nail to see Van Pelt and Rigsby march around the corner, with vigour in their strides.

'Boss!' Van Pelt called just as she crossed the threshold to the bullpen.

'What is it?' I answered.

'Rigsby and I paid a visit to the county mental health centre to see if we could find Alayna or Jacob in the records. We didn't find _them_, but listen to this: we found Eleanor, Jacob's sister, had been admitted to the centre in 2000, and then transferred to a mental health institute in Fresno the following year. The file said that she drew faces on the wall in her own blood.'

I nodded slowly, sitting forward on the couch.

'So Red John's sister is in Fresno. We were just checking back before we were going to drive down there.'

'So it's possible that Jacob sent his sister to a psychiatric hospital?'

'Yeah. We're not sure why he would want to harm his sister though... Maybe it was self-preservation, before he started killing. To protect himself. Stop anyone from talking about him.' Van Pelt shrugged.

'Yeah, ok. Well, you go ahead. Cho and I'll stay here.'

'We'll call you when we get there,' Rigsby added, checking his watch, 'Probably about nine if we leave now.'

I nodded, 'Okay. We'll call with any updates from this end.'

Van Pelt and Rigsby were soon gone again, driving away to Fresno to hunt down the remaining Red John family tree. I sighed, pushing back into the couch again, the faded, stressed brown leather providing a cool embrace. A few minutes passed, where nothing happened but silence. Cho was sat at his desk and I was gently beginning to fall in and out of sleep. The usual soft bustle around the bullpen had seemed to dissipate since Jane had disappeared, and I couldn't really tell why.

I was stirred from my half asleep state by the couch cushion squashing down slightly on my right. I looked round, finding Cho sat beside me.

'Hey,' I murmured.

'Hey,' Cho replied softly.

For a moment, it just looked like Cho wanted to use the couch as well, but eventually he spoke.

'Lisbon.'

'Yeah?'

'You want to share anything?' he asked, turning his eyes to meet my gaze.

'...No...why?'

'There is something, isn't there?'

'Why...why would you think that?'

He gave me one of those blank looks, that he used in interrogations...just a stare until you realised he knew you were lying and there was no point saying any differently.

I looked into my lap. 'It's nothing.'

'I don't care if it's tiny. I want to know. I'm...worried about you.'

When I glanced up at him again, I could see the worry in his eyes. His face would never tell, but when you looked in his eyes, everything was there, when he wanted you to see it. He wanted me to see that he was truly concerned for his friend and colleague.

I took a deep breath in and out, fiddling with my fingers, 'It was something that happened before Jane was taken by Red John.'

Cho didn't interrupt or press me when I paused for several seconds, just allowed me my time.

'When he was driving home to find that next clue from Red John, I was worried about him, so I followed him. I just wanted to check that he was ok.'

I took another deep breath, maybe trying to give myself the confidence to continue; tell it all to another colleague.

'I guess we got a little closer than usual. He was upset; I was trying to comfort him... we just...we sat on the kitchen floor...we...' I trailed off, wiping a hand over my face, covering my mouth as I shut my eyes, 'There was just a moment where we almost...'

Cho seemed to understand. I felt his hand on my knee, his thumb gently rubbing circles through my jeans.

'I just felt so confused and lost when he was taken. We didn't have chance to talk it through properly,' I refused to let tears into my eyes, but I already felt weakened and vulnerable, 'We didn't have _time_.'

'It's gonna be ok,' Cho murmured.

'You sure?' I replied feebly.

'Yeah. I am.'

He didn't seem to care about the rules against a relationship inside the team; he was more interested in trying to comfort me, and accepting what I was telling him without question.

'I feel pathetic. I should be able to keep it together better than this...' I muttered.

'You're not pathetic,' Cho told me, 'It's just a situation that makes it worse for you. Don't worry. We will find him.'

I looked into Cho's eyes, a smile crossing my lips. I nodded confidently. 'Thank you,' I replied quietly.

'No problem,' Cho smiled back encouragingly.

* * *

It was 9:06pm on the car's clock when we entered Fresno. A yawn broke loose from my lips as I turned the steering wheel to drive the SUV into a motel parking lot a further few minutes into the city. The mental health institute where Eleanor Immerson had been transferred to was a matter of ten minutes or so away. As I flicked off the headlights and killed the engine, I looked across at Rigsby, who had fallen asleep in the passenger seat with a now emptied box of fries that we'd picked up on the way. I smiled sleepily. I leant over and nudged his arm gently.

'Wayne? We're here,' I murmured.

He stirred a little, and took a few seconds to blink his eyes open. 'Hmm?'

'We're here,' I repeated.

Rigsby sat up slowly and looked out of the windshield at a pink and blue neon sign declaring 'Sleepyside Motel.' Three Zs lit up in turn, pink, blue, pink, from small to large, above the name. He feebly hid a large, noisy yawn behind a balled fist.

'Come on.' I jumped out of the SUV into the starry skied world outside and shut the door behind me, waiting for Rigsby to exit the vehicle before I turned the key in the lock. With a heavy thunk, the SUV was secure, and I made my way towards the reception to get us a room.

* * *

With a $25 room for one night, Rigsby and I snuggled into the double bed, under three layers of warm blankets. I was turned towards the wall, one hand underneath my pillow, when I felt Rigsby's arm snake around my waist, and he wriggled up behind me. I smiled softly as I felt his warm breath wash over my neck and shoulder. I turned my head back, letting it rest on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to my cheek.

'Love you Grace,' he murmured.

'Love you too,' I replied, placing my hand over his, where it rested on my stomach.

The long drive had robbed me of energy, and my eyes were automatically falling shut now. I didn't resist, and it wasn't long before both myself and Rigsby were deep in the land of Z's.


	12. Her Dark Past

_**A/N: Yay! Even longer chapter than the last, and even faster. Yes, I probably should have been writing a new chapter for Lash of the Whip, as this story was the one that was updated more recently, but I really wanted to write more to this one. There was something which was supposed to be in the last chapter, but failed, then I was going to put it in this chapter, but that plan failed too... I wrote too much about Van Pelt and Rigsby's whereabouts and adventures to be able to put it in this chapter XD Next chapter maybe. :P**_

Chapter 12. Her Dark Past.

I sat across the table from Rigsby in the waffle cafe just around the corner from Eleanor's psychiatric hospital, chewing a chunk of waffle, hoping to forget the nervousness that was flitting around in my stomach. I'd chosen a plate of two waffles, decorated with scrambled egg and maple syrup. It felt like I needed a bit more of a treat than my usual breakfast to try and calm my nerves. This was Red John's sister we were going to be talking to, and somehow, breakfasting on healthy cereal just didn't seem to cut the mustard.

I looked at Rigsby's plate, stacked with several waffles, a heap of scrambled egg, bacon and sausage, all finished with a thick drizzling of maple syrup, and I felt a little ill. It would never cease to amaze me how much he could eat in one sitting, and yet still be hungry afterwards. Looking back at my own plate, and becoming glad that my serving actually looked pathetic compared to his, I delivered another small square of waffle and egg into my mouth, chewing as I looked out of the window beside me.

I watched cars pass by slowly on the concrete roads, faintly shimmering under the increasing heat of the morning sun. The odd person meandered on along the sidewalks, phones to their ears or a coffee in their hand, or both. They didn't know what was going on. They were oblivious to the situation at the CBI, where a notorious serial killer was playing mind games from behind a variety of physical and electronic shields, and a soul-broken CBI consultant was lost in the midst. They had no clue. It made my heart, and my throat ache, as I held back any emotion that might be threatening to become visible. I tried to stifle it with another forkful of waffle.

While I may have stayed strong in front of Lisbon, I couldn't prevent myself from becoming worried and scared all the time. It wasn't my nature to be able to remain neutral and seemingly unattached. I couldn't _not _care. I took a gulp of my orange juice, drowning it all out as my gaze flickered to Rigsby. He'd nearly devoured all of his breakfast, and I'd got one or two mouthfuls left. Then it would be time; time to drive round to the hospital to meet Eleanor.

I finished in a matter of minutes and washed it down with the rest of the orange juice, finishing just a few seconds before Rigsby assassinated his last waffle.

'Ready?' I asked, though he was probably more ready than I was.

He chucked his napkin on the plate after wiping his mouth off and nodded. 'Let's go.'

We clambered back into the SUV, I no longer being bothered by Rigsby's grumbling stomach; it had somehow managed to unnerve me a bit more than I already was. I averaged that we were safe for another hour before it started complaining again. I pulled out of the car park and onto the road, waiting at a set of traffic lights for a little too long for my nervously tapping foot to bear.

Soon enough, however, we were parked up in the parking lot of Oaks Psychiatric Hospital. I jumped out almost immediately, observing the two storey building before us. It was pleasant looking, with light brick work and woodwork. I approached the hospital with caution, like it might bite if I got there too fast. Rigsby walked beside me; I could feel the back of his hand brushing against mine as we went.

'How're you feeling?' he asked softly.

'Nervous. You?'

'Something like that.'

The corner of my mouth twitched upwards in a brief, nervous smile. 'Do you think she'll have improved by now? It's been what...ten years?'

'I don't know...'

I blew out a long breath as we came up to the entrance. I felt Rigsby's hand touch on the small of my back gently just before I pulled the door wide open and stepped into the reception area. I looked around to the right to see a glass window in the wall, looking in at a room where the receptionists sat. I stepped up to the grill, briefly looking around the chair-lined room, and the two sets of double doors, one to the right and one to the left.

'Hi. My name's Grace Van Pelt and this is Wayne Rigsby. We're with the CBI,' I offered my badge forward, 'We have reason to believe that a patient, Eleanor Immerson is being accommodated here, and she is a key part of an ongoing case. We were wondering if we could visit her?'

The receptionist looked down at her computer, presumably checking that there was actually a patient there by the same name.

'She was transferred here in 2000, from Sacramento County Mental Health Centre,' I added.

'Ok...' the woman murmured, 'Eleanor Immerson...uh...'

My heart began to pound as the woman continued to search; voicing inaudible murmuring noises as she scanned over what I assumed were patient lists. I began to worry that she wasn't here anymore when the woman muttered, 'Ah...here...oh...no...' but just a few seconds after, 'Here. Eleanor Immerson.'

I let out a soft, 'Phew.'

'Yes, here she is. I'll call someone down to take you up.'

I looked back at Rigsby with an expression of relief before turning to watch the receptionist pick up the phone and make the call.

'...some visitors for patient 1109...CBI...yes...ok...' the receptionist replaced the phone and told us that someone would be down shortly to take us to the right place, so we should sign the visitor's book and take a seat. I signed the book that the woman handed through the hole in the window, and with a word of thanks, turned to walk to the chairs opposite the receptionist's office. I took a seat, letting out a long breath.

'For a moment there I thought she was going to say she wasn't here anymore,' I muttered as Rigsby sat beside me.

'Yeah, well at least we don't have to chase her down again on another three hour journey.'

I let out a soft snort of laughter and shook my head.

It was about fifteen minutes before a young blonde haired woman walked through the double doors on the right of the room, carrying a clipboard by her side. She smiled warmly at us as she approached.

'You're with the CBI?' she asked.

'Yeah. Grace Van Pelt,' I replied, taking her offered hand in a hand shake.

'Agent Rigsby,' Rigsby added in, taking the doctor's hand briefly as well.

She smiled, 'Well, I'm Dr. Newman. Nice to meet you. I understand you're here to see Eleanor Immerson?'

I nodded, 'Yes.'

'Right this way then,' she began to walk back to the door from which she had walked. Above the door in clear capital letters read the words 'Secure Patient Treatment.'

Once we were through into the corridor beyond, Dr Newman began speaking again.

'I should warn you now; Eleanor hasn't made much progress since she first came here. When she arrived, she didn't respond to anyone, or any treatment we gave her. We tried a variety of therapies; benzodiazepines, ECT, amantadine...but nothing worked. The strange thing is, when someone is present in the room with her, she won't respond in _any _way, or make any movement. It's like she's in her own world, and refuses to come round, but when we leave, and come back a bit later, we always find a new drawing on the wall and a bleeding cut on her arm, which she used to draw the picture, but she'll be sat in exactly the same place, and in exactly the same position we left her.'

I exchanged a worried glance with Rigsby as the doctor buzzed open a set of two gates with a swipe card and continued.

'Even when someone stands at the door, just observing through the window to see what she does, she won't move. It's like she can tell someone's there, even if she can't see them.'

'Has she made any improvement at all?'

'Not as such...'

'What do you mean?' Rigsby asked.

'Well she still doesn't really respond...but in the last couple of months, when we set someone up by the door to watch her, she knows they're there, and she just turns her head to watch the window.'

Just thinking about a woman watching me from a plain white cell, through a small glass window brought shivers to my spine. I rolled my shoulders back uncomfortably.

'Whenever she can see or sense someone, she watches them, like she's silently fascinated by them.'

'Creepy,' Rigsby murmured.

'Yes, it has unsettled a few of our staff. We've had to switch her doctors several times,' Dr Newman paused, 'So why do want to see her anyway?'

'Well we can't discuss the details, but we believe her to be connected to an ongoing case we've been handling.'

'Fair enough,' the doctor nodded briefly, 'But I'll say now, you won't get anything out of her.'

'We'd like to just see her. See her room. That sort of thing,' I told her. I was silently disappointed that we probably wouldn't get anything useful out of Eleanor, but the point was we'd found her, and we'd be able to see what she had been drawing on her walls. One way or another, she was the sister of the serial killer that the CBI had been hunting for so long, years before I'd even arrived, and this was an important link, no matter how unresponsive that link was. After a while, Dr Newman stopped outside of a white, metal doored room.

'Well this is it,' she announced.

A card was slotted into the door - Patient 1109 - E. Immerson. There was a small wired window in the top half of the door, just at my eye level, and a closed hatch in the middle of the door. I stepped round the doctor to look through the window. My breath seemed to catch in my throat as I met gazes with her.

The girl inside the plain white room was sat cross-legged on the bed, on the right hand side. She was slouching, staring at me through the window with big, round, almost black eyes; not like she had just turned her head to see me appear in the window, but like she had been watching me coming, through the walls. Short, scruffy reddish-orange hair contrasted against her pale face and small features. Her stare was not that of hatred or determination, but more that of a scared young girl. However, the longer that I met eyes with her, the stronger the shivers and ripples of cold were, running along my skin and standing the hairs on my arms on end. I could have sworn the girl had cocked her head to the side a little, but I couldn't quite tell.

It was only when I tore my eyes away from hers that I saw the crimson painted smileys littering the wall opposite her bed. Her body was faced towards them, like she had simply been sat there watching them before I had appeared.

'You want to go in?' I heard Dr. Newman ask from beside me.

I didn't really register what she had said for a few seconds. 'Yeah...yes please,' I replied slowly.

The doctor stepped forward, pulling a key card from her pocket and sliding it through the door's locking system. With a clunk, the door unlocked and swung open a little, allowing Dr. Newman to slip her hand behind the door and pull it open. She opened it wide, allowing Rigsby and I to walk in. Naturally, I walked in more cautious and careful than eager. My strides were slow and small as I slipped into the room, my eyes constantly fixed on the girl whose stare remained fixed on me. I smiled at her as confidently as I could as Rigsby studied the walls behind me, examining each smiley face in turn.

I heard the door being closed with a soft thunk behind us before there was an utter absence of sound again.

'Hey...Eleanor,' I murmured the quiet greeting, while my gaze was pulled to the variety of short, ragged cuts on her arms. Most were scars, almost blending in with the paleness of her skin, but others were more red; flared with pink. I swallowed nervously. I cast a glance around the room, seeing smileys covering practically every inch of wall available. I could see that some had tried to be cleaned off in the past, where the red of the blood had been faded down, yet a ghost of the rich crimson still remained, not completely removed.

'Jacob had to have sent her mad,' Rigsby murmured, 'Other wise she wouldn't be drawing the same smileys as him. These are the actual Red John smileys, not just her own smileys or his early ones.'

I looked over my shoulder at Rigsby, who continued to carefully analyse the widely smiling faces.

'How do you think he did it?' I asked.

'I...don't know. Maybe he forced her to draw her own with her own blood. The forensics report should tell us whether there was blood in some of the smileys and whose it was.'

I nodded. 'Well if she walked in on him, when he was drawing the faces, maybe she thought he needed help, and was going to bring him to a psychiatric hospital.'

'But he got there first, right? Sent her mad to protect himself.'

'Turned the tables,' I replied softly.

I turned back to Eleanor, and a sharp intake of breath entered my lungs. My heart was in my throat, pounding like a heavy drum beat. Eleanor was suddenly stood right in front of me. The tips of our noses were only inches apart. I could see nothing but her dark, wide eyes boring into me. I could hardly breathe. It was like there was no air between us for me to take in; no oxygen. Her head cocked to one side, as if she was curious about me.

'...R-Rigsby...' I whispered. The volume of my voice was probably on par with that of a pin dropping in a noisy room. Nothing. But somehow Rigsby heard me. He turned to see what was wrong. I could hear his breathing step up a pace as he found Eleanor stood right in front of me. I tried to see whether Dr. Newman was still outside the door, but my vision was limited, seen as I couldn't tear my eyes from Eleanor. I guessed if she was, and she was watching, she'd be in here by now.

My first attempt to speak to her was nothing more than a dry sound in my throat. My lips opened fractionally, before closing again.

'J-Ja-,' Eleanor's lips seemed to stumble over the speech, like they weren't used to moving - as if she'd had them permanently shut for the past ten years.

I stared, shocked, as she struggled to form the word that was obviously on the tip of her tongue.

'Jacob?' I murmured softly, trying to concentrate on Eleanor rather than the pummelling ache in my chest.

She tilted her head to the opposite side.

'...J...Jacob?' she mimicked my slightly heightened pitch of voice.

'You remember your brother?' I tried, touching my fingertips feather-light to her forearm.

But she suddenly recoiled, clambering back onto her bed. She curled up against the wall, pulling her knees under her chin and gripping her hair tightly between her fingers. I could hear her speaking softly, barely audibly, to herself.

I stepped forward, feeling Rigsby's touch on my arm, but shrugging it off gently. I crouched beside Eleanor's bed, laying my hand flat on the mattress. I tilted my head to try and see her face. I couldn't see her eyes, but I could see the glint of tears, tiny slithers of light just managing to touch the salty liquid and reflect a little.

'Eleanor...' I began.

Her right hand fell from her hair to begin running slowly along her left forearm, where my fingertips had just lightly brushed. I could see the tears tumbling down her pale cheeks as her left arm lowered a fraction from her face.

'What's wrong?' I whispered. I began to move my hand towards her a little, millimetre by millimetre. Her eyes snapped towards it, watching it move.

'What did he do to you?'

Her gaze abruptly returned back into her self-made cocoon.

'_Go on Ellie, do it_,' she whispered, '_Drag the knife across your flesh. You'll feel better Ellie_...No!' she moved her arms down to tighten around her knees, 'No, you're crazy,' a soft laugh slipped in between her words, 'You need help..._Come on Ellie, do it, just let the blade slide, open your skin, let it out..._No! I'm taking you to hospital, you're sick..._I'm not sick Ellie, come on, look, don't be afraid..._JACOB!' she screamed his name, terrified. She scrambled beneath her blankets and hid away, like she was back in that moment, seeing her brother approach her with a shining blade. I carefully controlled my own emotion, holding back tears that were ever threatening my eyes.

I reached across, my hand softly curling around the corner of the blanket, slowly pulling it back from Eleanor's face. Her dark gaze flickered up to mine.

'Hey...it's ok, Eleanor, you're safe now. He can't hurt you.'

'H-He...he told me he loved me,' she whispered, so very quiet and vulnerable.

'Maybe he didn't mean to hurt you. Maybe he was just sick, like you said.'

She nodded fervently, her hair knotting as it rubbed against the bed sheets. 'He was sick, so very sick...but he wouldn't listen,' she spoke, a shining tear tumbling from her eye and dripping off her nose, dampening the bed sheet.

'What was he going to do, Eleanor, did he say anything to you?'

She shook her head softly, another tear following suit of the first. 'B-but...'

'What is it?' I asked, gently taking hold of her hand underneath the blanket.

'He said he was sorry...'

'When did he say that?'

'He came to see me once...he held me. Said I love you Ellie, and I'm sorry.' She bunched a corner of the blanket in her fists and pulled it to her face, almost hiding behind it.

'How long ago?'

'Long time,' she mumbled.

'Has he come since?'

'Nuh-uh,' she shook her head. Her deep black eyes snapped to mine, 'I...I want to see him.'

I frowned confusedly.

'I- I don't care he hurt me. Can you find him?' she looked at me hopefully.

'Well...we don't know where he is. We're trying to find him ourselves. You see...he's in trouble. He's done bad things.'

'Like what?'

I shifted my weight onto my other foot. 'He's hurt people.'

'Like me?'

'Well...sort of. But worse.'

She continued to stare at me, pressing me to explain.

'Eleanor...he's killed people. And he's taken one of our friends. Hurt him. Done something bad to him. We're trying to find them both.'

Eleanor swallowed down hard. 'I...I don't understand...why would he do that?'

'I'm not sure. That's what we're trying to find out.'

'Is it because of mom?'

'...Maybe.'

Suddenly, tears were tumbling down the girl's face, and she was pulling the blanket closer to her body as her shape racked with sobs.

'Hey...hey, come on, it's ok...' I reached my hand to her hair, gently, comfortingly smoothing it back for her. She let me continue for a while, salty tears covering her face in a moist layer. But then she quickly pushed herself off the bed and into my arms, wrapping her arms around me tightly, sobbing into my shoulder.

Initially, I was frozen, a little shocked from the sudden disappearance of space between us, but as it passed, I began to stroke her hair, whispering softly to her. I looked up at Rigsby, my eyes beginning to become tearful. He had crouched behind me, making sure I was safe. We shared a look, before I turned back to Eleanor, resting my cheek on her head.

'Shh...' I murmured, rubbing her back up and down, trying to soothe her, 'It's gonna be ok.'

_**A/N: Reviews are my oxygen...**_


	13. Cardiac Arrest

_**A/N: Uh...about Lash of the Whip...Red Letters occurred XD Longest chapter ever, right here! 4, 360 words - six and a half pages. Sorry, I just couldn't stop XD**_

Chapter 13. Cardiac Arrest.

'We'll find him, I promise,' I told her as I stood at the door, a reassuring smile on my face for the young girl sat cross-legged on the bed. She nodded slowly, giving me an unsure smile. Whether the doubt in that smile was because she was worried that we wouldn't find him, or she was scared about staying in the psychiatric hospital now, I wasn't sure. I shut the door behind me softly, turning to Rigsby before searching the corridor for Dr. Newman. I saw her striding towards us.

'Did you find your visit useful?' she asked, 'Sorry I had to leave for a bit, I gathered you'd be safe enough.'

I nodded, 'Eleanor started talking.'

She came to a halt, a confused frown spread across her features. 'What?'

'It seems that something we said unlocked her,' I replied, 'She started talking about her brother.'

'Wh...What did you say?' Dr. Newman marched forward, looking through the window in Eleanor's door.

'We just mentioned Jacob to each other, and she reacted,' I explained, 'Jacob is her brother.'

'B-but...' she stuttered, 'Ten years... and you took ten minutes.'

'I would say that we would want to move her to a hospital closer to Sacramento, but right now, she's still an important aspect of our case, and we would like to keep her here so we don't upset anything, or make unnecessary problems for ourselves...'

Dr. Newman nodded slowly.

'We'll call you if anything changes,' I told her, turning to leave.

'Hang on...' the doctor called, coming round from her shock, 'I need to let you out.'

She jogged a little to catch up and came to match my stride beside me. 'Is there anything you can tell me about this brother?' she asked me.

'Not really. A lot of it is to do with an ongoing case. We can't share that information.'

The doctor nodded. 'Can you tell me why she's been silent for the past ten years? Why she draws the faces?'

'No.'

Dr. Newman buzzed open the gate for us when we reached it. I kept refusing to tell her anything about the case, and she was becoming more and more frustrated, but I couldn't help her. Eleanor was an important part of the Red John case, and if we told anyone anything about what we'd found, or moved Eleanor from the hospital, it was likely that Red John would find out one way or another, and then we'd have serious trouble on our hands. Eleanor had to stay here, and the doctors had to remain unaware of the reasons that Eleanor had fallen into silence; unaware of her dark past. It was for their protection. I nodded a thanks and farewell as we left the hospital, leaving Dr. Newman flustered and confused.

We were half way across the car park when I spoke to Rigsby. 'I wish we were able to take her with us,' I said, 'I would feel better knowing she was with us rather than in there. She's scared.'

'Well, as you said, if we move her, Red John might figure out and something worse could happen. It's a matter of protection for everyone. If we get closer to him, then he might try and stop us, by any means necessary. And we still don't know if Jane's gone back to him - we don't want to upset Red John if he has.'

I nodded, but it didn't mean I had stopped worrying about Eleanor. She was like a small girl, surrounded by four white walls and a host of doctors. They'd be flooding in there soon, studying her again, and trying to figure her thoughts out...poking and prodding at her. I hated the thought of it.

I clicked the key to the SUV, releasing the locking system as we got closer.

'Uh...I need to go back to the waffle café.'

'Why? You're hungry again?' I asked hopelessly.

'No...well, yeah, but I need to go to the toilet.'

I nodded. 'Ok, meet you back here.'

I watched as Rigsby jogged to the sidewalk, and then over to the other side of the road to find the café. My hand was on the door handle of the driver's door, but I felt like I needed some more air before the long drive back to Sacramento, so I took a set towards the patch of grass just a little way in front of the SUV. I took a deep breath, letting myself down onto the slightly dried grass, stretching my legs out and propping myself up on my hands. I heard a car door open and shut somewhere behind me, and an engine rumble into life.

I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back a little, and felt the cooling shade of the palm tree above wash over me. A soft breeze picked up strands of my hair, draping them over my face, like the wind was sighing. I let myself relax, trying to release all the feelings that I had inside, letting the breeze take them away into the distance, wherever that would be. I controlled my breathing, slowing it, keeping it calm, like I was taught by my yoga teacher. I was feeling so peaceful by the time that Rigsby came back, that I jumped a little when he called my name. I opened my eyes, smiling at him. I laughed when I saw his arms cradling a take-away box of waffles. I looked at my watch as I stood. My prediction of one hour had apparently been correct.

'Let's get back,' I said, climbing into the SUV and keying the ignition.

* * *

'Do you think we'll be able to catch him this time?' I asked Rigsby, switching my gaze from the road to my passenger. It was half an hour since we'd left Fresno, and the majority of it had been spent dipping in and out of conversation at odd intervals.

Rigsby looked at me. 'I don't know. We seem to have a better chance of getting through on a personal level though. I bet he doesn't know we found his sister. I don't think he was expecting that much. Or maybe he didn't think, even if we did find her, that she'd be able to tell us anything.'

I nodded. 'I hope for Eleanor's sake and Jane's that we do find him soon. It's painful seeing them both. Eleanor's still attached to him, despite the damage he caused her, and Jane's painfully obsessed. They're probably Red John's two most personal victims.' My eyes were stinging with emotion, but I quickly blinked it away. I didn't want to crash, emotionally or physically. I felt Rigsby's hand cover mine on the gear stick, the warmth creeping up my arm. I checked the rear view mirror, trying to distract myself. But that was when I saw a flash of movement, only tiny, but still visible, from the back. I blinked, creasing my eyebrows together.

'What was that?' I murmured, sending a brief glance over my shoulder.

'What was what?'

'I thought I saw something move in the back.'

Rigsby looked to the back of the SUV, 'Huh?'

I saw a lay-by coming up on the right, so I pulled over, still casting brief glances at the rear view. I stared for a few seconds once the engine was off, just to see if the same movement would happen again, and trying to figure out if I was seeing things. Nothing happened, so I jumped out, moving towards the tailgate. At first, upon opening the back, I couldn't see any more than the usual kit and bits and bobs that were usually in the back. But then I saw some blankets and coats in the furthest right hand corner move. Just a twitch, but still a move. I could feel my pulse picking up as I reached for the edge of the pile.

'What is it Grace?' Rigsby called, just as I took a fistful of coat into my hand. I composed myself for a few seconds, before ripping the cover off a small figure huddled in the back.

'Eleanor!' I cried, removing all the coats and blankets from the young red haired girl.

'I'm sorry! Please don't take me back there! I don't want to stay there!' she blurted in a panicked frenzy.

'What are you doing?' I replied in disbelief, 'How did you escape?'

'I'm sorry, I just snuck out behind you, I was scared, and I wanted to stay with you and I wanted to-'

I stared as her big eyes looked tearfully out at me.

'I'm not crazy...' she whispered.

'Eleanor, they'll be looking for you, they'll worry! And we'll get in trouble... It's safer there!'

She blinked, a tear tumbling down her cheek as she scrabbled out of her corner and into my arms again. 'I feel safer with you...' she mumbled into my shoulder, 'You helped me.'

I slowly brought my arms around her back, giving her a soft squeeze.

'We've got to take you back...' I told her softly.

'No! Please...please don't!' I could feel her tears soaking the shoulder of my shirt and wetting my shoulder, 'I want to stay with you. You'll keep me safe.'

Rigsby slowly made his way round to the back of the SUV, digging his hands deep in his pockets as he watched us. 'What are we going to do?' I whispered to him. I was lost. If we didn't take her back, then the doctors there would panic, and try and find her, probably blaming us. If Red John found out in some way that she wasn't there, then there would be trouble, and if we took her back to CBI, Hightower would have a heart attack when she found out we'd taken a patient from the psychiatric hospital without permission.

Rigsby didn't seem to be able to answer, so I tried to make up my own mind, but there was hardly anything I could do. I sighed, pulling Eleanor back and looking into her tearful eyes. 'If we take you with us, you've got to promise to be good. We can't have any trouble or the situation will get worse and people will find out. We'll protect you at the headquarters, ok?'

Eleanor nodded eagerly, and her face told me that she would do her best. I asked myself briefly what the heck I was doing as I led Eleanor to the back seat of the SUV and opened the door for her, but I couldn't take her back seeing how much she hated the place. Rigsby shut the tailgate before returning to his seat.

'We're gonna be in so much trouble for this...' I murmured, getting back in the SUV.

Rigsby didn't reply at first, and I was worried that he thought we were doing the wrong thing, but after a while he said, 'We were unaware that we were taking her from the hospital, and when we discovered her in the back of the SUV, she refused to go back. We could do nothing without causing danger to ourselves and the girl in question.'

I nodded with a flicker of a smile, checking back on Eleanor, who sat in the seat behind me, staring out of the window at the trees rustling in a light breeze.

'Ok.'

* * *

Just under two and a half hours later, we were pulling into the CBI parking lot. Rigsby was half asleep in the passenger seat, and Eleanor was looking round curiously, studying the CBI building through the back window. I suddenly realised how totally unsuitable it would be to walk a girl dressed in white scrubs into the CBI considering we were supposed to be keeping this low profile right now. I nudged Rigsby out of his slumber and motioned towards Eleanor.

'We need to get her some other clothes. We can't walk her in like that.'

Rigsby watched Eleanor as she moved to each of the windows, looking out at the surroundings in fascination. She'd been doing it the whole journey, which wasn't really surprising after ten years in a psychiatric hospital, without seeing the outdoors.

'Are there any in the back?'

'I don't know.'

'Check.'

I nodded, getting out and opening the tailgate. Eleanor turned her eyes to watch me as I rummaged.

'We're finding you some new clothes to wear, so you'll look normal when we go in, ok?'

She nodded with an enthusiasm you would hardly expect if you'd seen the state of her in the psychiatric hospital. It was like the room was compressing her, making her look and feel depressed and cornered. I smiled back - her happiness was infectious. Soon, I found a pair of worn blue jeans and a black t-shirt amongst the mess in the back, along with a black checked hoodie. I passed them over to Eleanor. The white plimsolls wouldn't matter too much once she had some normal clothes on. She took them, and I closed the tailgate, stepping round to lean back on the window to give her some cover as she changed in the back seat. Rigsby did the same on the other side.

Soon, I heard a light knock on the window I was leant against, and I turned to see Eleanor inside, the new clothes almost the right fit on her, just a little too big. I opened the door for her, letting her climb out onto the concrete. She looked up at me from underneath strands of reddish hair that had fallen into her face, a shy smile on her lips.

'Much better,' I told her, smiling myself. I nodded in the direction of the headquarters, 'Come on then.'

She followed me towards the building, almost hiding behind me, but half way across the parking lot I felt her hand slip into mine. I looked around at her. Her fingers were curled over the edge of the hoodie's sleeve as she held a corner between her teeth nervously. Despite her twenty-seven years of age, she still acted like a child. Whether that was because she had mentally restarted herself and returned to being a child because of what she'd experienced when she was older...or whether it was because she had simply been frozen in time for so long, that she didn't know how to be an adult, I wasn't sure, but she was like a shy young child all over again. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as we stepped inside the entrance.

Eleanor seemed to be scouring the surroundings with eager interest, even though she still had the sleeve in her mouth. I could see her eyes flick one way and the other, looking at people passing by, and the bustle of activity all around her. I guided her round to the queue we would have to wait in before getting to the elevator. As we came to a halt, she looked at the beeping frame of the scanner just beside us with fascination, as people emptied their pockets into trays at the side and then stepped through it, gathering their things on the other side. She had a questioning look on her face as she watched, but she didn't say anything. Soon, I was at the front of the queue and I showed my I.D to the security guard. He nodded, 'Hi,' but looked at Eleanor, who was still biting on her sleeve, 'Who's that?'

'She's...the sister of a suspect in an ongoing case. We're bringing her here for protection,' I replied swiftly.

'She'll need to go through the scanner then,' the guard replied nodding in the direction of the other, shorter queue.

'Yeah.'

I walked Eleanor round to the two-person-long queue on the other side of the barrier, still holding her hand. 'Just step through and I'll meet you on the other side,' I smiled. It came to her turn and I let go of her hand, nudging her forward so she could go through. She stopped in front of it, letting her sleeve drop from her mouth to her side, examining the frame for a moment before cautiously stepping through to the other side. I followed her after depositing my keys and wallet into a tray. She smiled at me, seemingly amused by the scanner, even if it hadn't beeped. Collecting my belongings, I put them back in my pockets and retook her hand as I watched Rigsby step through security in the other queue.

Once in the elevator, I looked at Eleanor, 'So...you want a drink or anything when we get there?'

She nodded simply.

'What do you like?'

'I don't know...' she replied, watching the buttons of the elevator flash as we moved up the floors.

'You ok?' I asked, turning to Rigsby.

He nodded, 'Yeah.'

'You just seem quiet.'

'I'm a bit worried, that's all. When Hightower finds out or something.'

'Well, we'll just have to tell the truth. She's not going to make us drive another three hours to take her back. It'll be fine.'

The doors of the elevator pinged open on the third floor and we got out, Rigsby heading straight to the bull pen, and Eleanor and I going for the break room.

'So, we've got tea, coffee, I think we have some juice, some water...what would you like?'

Eleanor stood in the threshold of the break room, looking around at all the different appliances and furniture before her eyes finally settled on me. 'Juice...please,' she answered quietly.

'Ok...' I opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice from the door, pouring some into a clean glass from the cupboard before putting it back and handing Eleanor the glass. 'There you go.'

She took the glass, taking a small sip from the very top of the glass' rim. Taking another, I watched her turn on the spot and survey the surroundings again. She began forward slowly, towards the bull pen, taking further tiny sips as she went. I followed behind her, watching her curiosity take her around the room. She stopped in front of Jane's couch, simply looking at it, and drinking more orange juice like it was a fuel to keep her moving. She stepped forward. 'Who sits there?' She seemed to notice an unfilled indent on the couch's cushion.

'Uh...our friend. It's his couch, but he's not here right now. We don't know where he is...'

'He's the one my brother hurt?' she asked quietly.

I gazed sadly at the couch, wishing that Jane was sat there right now so we didn't have to worry. 'Yeah...he is.'

'What's his name?'

'...Jane...Patrick Jane.'

Eleanor nodded, continuing to look at the empty couch. A few seconds later, she moved forward with a sip of orange juice and sat cross-legged on the middle cushion, looking down at the indent in the cushion on her left.

If I hadn't been listening properly, I would have missed what she said next.

'I'm sorry, Patrick Jane,' she whispered, talking to the empty space on her left, 'Sorry he hurt you too.'

I watched, my eyes beginning to sting with tears as my stomach drew in with a sharp breath. Eleanor shuffled further back into the couch, drinking some more of her juice. 'Jacob just got sad after mom died,' she again spoke to the empty space, like Jane was sat there to talk to, 'I hope you'll be ok.'

I turned on the spot, a tear escaping my eye and rolling down my cheek. I walked back to the break room, taking one of the seats and landing in it heavily. I swiped the tear from my face, only for it to be replaced by two more. I breathed in and out, slowly, shakily. I only had a moment alone though, as Cho entered. He stopped, pausing and looking down at me. 'You ok?' I wiped the tears of my face with my sleeve and dabbed at my eyes. 'Yeah. Fine.' It wasn't hard to understand why he looked completely unconvinced, but he didn't venture further as he continued his trail towards the sink.

'So...where's Lisbon?' I asked, still drying my face.

'Uh...she went home to get some rest. She's got someone there with her.'

I nodded.

'What did you find in Fresno?' he asked, filling the kettle with water from the tap.

'Uh, yeah, we found Eleanor.'

'Yeah?'

'Mhmm.'

'Did you get anything out of her?'

'Well, apparently, she's been silent for the past ten years, but Rigsby and I brought up Jacob when we were in there with her, and she suddenly opened up again, like he was the key to her silence.'

Cho nodded, turning to lean on the counter.

'We found out what happened to her, sort of. Seems Jacob might have tortured her or something to get her into a psychiatric hospital instead of her sending him to one. We think he's sorry for what he's done though. Apparently he came back to visit her at one point, apologising and saying he loved her.'

Cho nodded again, 'So what's happening now?'

'Well, we tried to leave her there, because we thought it would be better if we didn't move her, just in case Red John found out.'

'Tried? What do you mean?'

'Uh, she escaped and crept into the SUV when we weren't looking. We didn't find her until half an hour into the journey.'

'So you took her back right?'

'...Not exactly.'

'What do you mean, not exactly?' Cho asked slowly.

'She didn't want to go back.'

It was then that Cho looked up to see a red haired girl sat on Jane's couch.

'That's her isn't it?'

'Yeah...'

Cho stared at the girl. I turned to look too. I could still see she was talking to the empty space on the couch.

'She's crazy isn't she,' Cho said bluntly.

'No. She's normal, just a little timid.'

'She's talking to a couch. She's crazy.'

'No, she's not.'

'What have you done?'

* * *

I offered a goodnight to the guard that had been assigned to protect me at my apartment before shutting the door behind me, kicking off my shoes and making for the stairs. I half stumbled up the steps towards the bedroom. I was drained of energy now. I wasn't sure whether that was because I was worried about Jane or whether it had taken all my energy to fess up to Cho at the CBI, but either way, I was shattered and I wanted nothing more than rest.

At the top of the stairs, I ran my hand through my hair with a yawn and slowly made my way to the bedroom door. Pushing it open with one hand, I looked at the bed, with all its welcoming comfort and softness. I felt every inch of me desiring the comfort and warmth of that bed right now, but I had to stop. I had to stop because something about the room felt off. It didn't matter that it was reasonably dark due to the pulled curtains and the steadily fading light outside; I could still sense something...

Then I saw it, the shadow lingering in the corner of the room, just outside the milky glow of the moonlight. I stood my ground.

'Jane? Is that you?' I asked as confidently as possible.

The figure remained static, and I had begun to think that it was just my imagination, but it was then that it moved forward, none too slowly, and pushed me back to the wall beside the door. My breath caught in my throat, and I found it hard to breathe, like I'd been winded. Jane was holding me, his hands firmly, but gently at the same time, holding my wrists to the wall either side of my head. I was scared, and I was beginning to wonder what to do as I put up a meagre fight to my friend's hands. I felt like I wanted to yell out, and get him safely to the CBI, but at the same time, I was transfixed by the green eyes staring at me as he pinned me to the wall. I could feel the lack of harsh force to my wrists. Butterflies were flittering around my stomach, and I realised I'd breathed in to the extent that my ribs were protruding from underneath my flesh. I slowly let it out, my throat tight and dry.

I watched as he observed my face, like he was reading me. Slowly, I could see him draw closer, the look in his eyes robbing me of the strength I had left to fight. I could feel his lips brushing up and down, and I couldn't help it as my head fell slightly to the side to allow him better access. His lips didn't kiss; they simply skimmed the surface of my flesh, his breathing sending shivers through me. My heart began to beat out a new rhythm; fast and heavy. I knew he could feel it as his chest just touched my own.

'Jane...' I let out breathlessly as his warm breath tickled at the fine hairs on my neck. My breathing was thick and heavy as I felt him trail a line of moist, delicate kisses across my skin. I couldn't deny the heated feeling I felt inside. I pressed my head back against the wall, my jaw unable to stay closed, as a heavy sigh fell from my lips. I wished I could let my hands explore, but they were still pinned back, so I settled for the sumptuous kiss that he was applying to the space between my neck and shoulder.

'Jane...' I repeated huskily. At the sound of my voice, he began moving his kisses upwards until they reached my chin, only millimetres away from my bottom lip. It was unbearable. I felt like I would burst. But it was only a few seconds before his lips took mine, passionately, but caring at the same time. I couldn't help myself. I couldn't tell myself that it was wrong, he was hypnotised, this wasn't him speaking, I couldn't do anything more than return that love-hungry kiss that he was giving me. It felt too good. It was...hypnotising...

His hands were beginning to slide down my arms; travel toward my body. It wasn't long before they were trailing up and down my sides, applying a gentle pressure that made my whole being tingle and shiver. His fingers picked out my t-shirt from the waistband of my jeans, until his hands could reach my flesh underneath. I took in a sharp breath as the coolness of his skin hit mine, sending goosebumps rippling across my stomach. He held my sides, wrapping his arms around my back, his lips still latched onto mine as he picked me off the floor. Wrapping my legs around him, I clung to him, unable to take my lips away from his.

Slowly, he turned round, taking me towards the bed. I revelled in the feeling of his body so close to mine, the warmth of his being against mine making me feel hot and flustered. We landed on the bed heavily, and I scrabbled back to lay comfortably before he straddled me on all fours, replacing his lips on mine, more hungrily than before. Slowly, he moved downwards, his hands pushing up my loosened shirt until he could run hot kisses from my navel to just below my bra.

'Dammit...' I muttered, my heart beating like a drum. Now that I hadn't got my lips locked on his, I could unfortunately bring myself to think, just for a second. But that was all it took. I reached for my waistband and in a matter of seconds, the click and whirr of handcuffs brought it all to a stop.

_**A/N: ...Reviews? XD**_


	14. Can Tea Fix Everything?

_**A/N: So Jane's back... sorta. :P Hope you enjoy. :)**_

Chapter 14. Can Tea Fix Everything?

I shut my eyes with a heavy sigh as Jane fell to the side, his wrists in cuffs. Rubbing my hand over my face and running it through my hair, I let my breathing, my whole self, calm before I made another move. I heard the jingle of metal chain as Jane struggled against the cuffs. Slowly, I pulled myself up, lowering my shirt again, still reeling after the feel of his hands on my skin. I was still tingling, my body still aching with desire. But I couldn't have let it continue. I wouldn't let it continue. Jane wasn't able to make a conscious decision. I couldn't let him do something that he would regret later on.

I let myself look across at him. He was sat up next to me on the bed, wriggling his wrists inside the metal embrace of the cuffs. Eventually, he seemed to realise that they wouldn't come off, and he let his hands drop to his lap. He switched his gaze to me. His soft green eyes were the same, the curl of his blonde hairs the same, his cheeks, where I longed to rest my fingers and never let my gaze wander from his again...the same. Yet his thoughts...his sped up, tangled, knotted thoughts...they created the soul of who I was looking at right now; a strange, confused soul within Jane's body. He looked hurt, confused, and my heart ached for him.

I wished I could tell him everything right now, to explain everything, and let it all out, because after all, I had him back. But he wouldn't understand. He wasn't the Jane I was so dying to talk to. He wasn't the Jane that I so wanted to hold and promise that I wouldn't let anything like this happen again. I hated the thought of what would happen when he found out what he'd done while he'd been under hypnosis. I rested my elbows on my knees and let my head fall into my hands. I could now feel a mist of tears begin to veil my eyes as my mind flashed back over what had just happened.

'I'm sorry, Jane...' I murmured, feeling water droplets gather on my lashes. This was my fault. I should have stayed away that night. I should have let him drive home without me following. Then maybe all of this wouldn't have been as tough as it had been, on me now, and Jane later. And then I'd gone and made it worse. I'd taken his book, and left it here at the apartment with him. I'd made his emotions turn in a backbreaking twist.

I knew he would remember all this. And if he didn't, he would press me until I told him. How was I to explain to him why I took his book? Why I invaded his privacy and took it from its place? The reasons he'd been able to find it at my apartment? I wouldn't be able to. He would hate me. He wouldn't be able to trust me again. I swore under my breath, lifting myself back up again, blinking the haze of tears back. I stood in front of him, our toes almost touching. He looked up at me, his eyes wide; windows to his lost soul.

'What...why have you handcuffed me?' he asked me quietly, 'What have I done?'

It was like he had forgotten what had just happened in the space of the thirty seconds or so between there and now. His expression was genuine confusion, a sort of vulnerability, now that the moment had passed. I studied his face, seeing a completely different look behind those pale green eyes than that of only moments ago. I bit down the urge to reach out and wrap my arms around him. It wasn't time for the reunited hug which I knew I would give him, whether I felt I wanted to or not. We weren't out of the storm yet. But at least I'd got him back. I didn't need to worry about where he was. I just needed to make sure that we could get him back to normal. I would never be so thankful to be subject to his ridiculous, paper-work inducing plans.

I looked deep into his unfaltering gaze, 'It's for your protection,' I replied softly, holding out my hand, 'Come on. We need to go.'

He stared at my hand, and I wished I knew what he was thinking. Just once, I wish I could tell what was inside his head. For a moment, I thought he was going to question me, ask where we were going, ask again why I'd felt the need to handcuff him, but he didn't. It took a while, but he took my hand between his own and pulled himself up. That touch, that feel of his hands on my skin again made warm ripples reverberate up my arm, but I ignored it, now just feeling the undying need to get Jane to safety; get him to the CBI. I wasn't about to run, and I wasn't about to let him run either. It was time to get him home.

* * *

I had been sat at my desk now for half an hour, simply watching Eleanor. Since she'd first sat there, she'd temporarily explored, leaving her emptied glass on Jane's desk and looking around in the consultant's corner. She seemed drawn to the space. She hadn't ventured anywhere else. It was like she had a connection with him, and I didn't know why. She had no reason to, she had never met him, never even heard of him, and yet she took to his 'company' like they had been old friends. She had continued to talk to herself, to him, since she'd first said sorry. As far as I could tell, she had been having a full conversation with him. Talking about Jacob, talking about what she remembered, asking him what certain things were that she might have seen on the way in... She never received an answer, but she appeared happy enough with it.

Despite the attachment that she'd clearly felt to me, it seemed that she was much happier in the company of someone who wasn't really there. But I wasn't too surprised after she had spent so many years in unbroken silence, with no company but a few doctors who watched her and examined her, poking at her like a specimen in a jar.

After a while, she had discovered a pack of cards that had been amongst the variety of objects on top of Jane's desk, and had seemed truly fascinated by them, taking them back to her seat on the couch. She opened them, picking them out carefully and flicking through them, examining the pictures of the Kings, Queens, Jacks and Aces. It was the same pack of cards that Jane loved to perform tricks with; make us all stare with awe, before we got called out on a case. I had felt a little twinge as she'd picked them up, almost feeling that I wanted everything to be in its right place when Jane returned.

Despite that feeling though, I had let her continue, curious to see what she would do. I watched as she began to move them around in the deck, slowly shuffling them up, every now and then dropping a card, which she would apologise for quietly and pick back up. Every time this happened, a flicker of an apologetic smile would appear on her face, her eyes twinkling. She'd been shuffling for a few minutes, perfecting the motion and the technique, before she suddenly stopped, looking up in front of her, as if Jane was sat in front of her.

'Uh...know any card games?' she whispered, a smile spreading across her face, and her cheeks lighting up with a soft pink, 'I don't know any...'

I couldn't help her smile spreading to me, making the corners of my lips lift.

But I tore my eyes away from her at the sound of Cho's voice behind me, just outside the bullpen, 'Jane!'

I turned at breakneck speed, my eyes rapidly scanning the area and soon finding Lisbon walking round the corner, Jane beside her. Her arm was behind him, positioned on the small of his back like she was encouraging him forward.

'Oh my god...' I murmured, jumping out of my seat and rushing forward. 'Jane!' I called, running up to meet him. 'Are you ok?' His hair was messy, ruffled, and he wasn't wearing a jacket, just his shirt with rolled up sleeves and his waistcoat undone. His whole outfit looked like it had been slept in; crumpled and creased.

He didn't give me a reply as such. More just a stare, like he was mentally absent, or like he didn't know who I was. It was then that I saw the handcuffs securing his wrists at the front, and I switched my gaze to Lisbon.

'What happened?'

'Found him in my apartment.'

'He didn't attack you again did he?' I asked, slightly quieter, maybe in the hope that Jane wouldn't hear. However, he seemed distracted by the young red haired girl watching him from his couch. He was staring at her, and I could imagine him questioning who she was, and why she was sat there. But his lips seemed sealed, unwilling to move to enable sound. Eleanor was staring back, but there was curiosity in her eyes, rather than accusation. She seemed to be taking in the man's dishevelled appearance, so many questions visible in her expression.

'Uh...no. No.'

'Are you ok?'

Lisbon appeared a little absent when she had given her slightly hesitated answer, like her mind had travelled elsewhere when she provided her reply.

'Yeah, I'm ok. I gonna take him to a free interrogation room ok?' she replied, coming back to the present time and giving me a brief, forced smile before guiding Jane away.

'Ok...' I nodded, watching them leave, Lisbon's hand rubbing up and down Jane's back as if she was trying to comfort him. It was a far cry from Lisbon's account of the Jane that tried to shoot her a day or so ago. I wondered what had changed. What had made Jane become such a different person since trying to bring Lisbon's life to an end?

I shared a look with Cho. A look that questioned what exactly was going on, but we both silently agreed to leave Jane and Lisbon to it for a moment before we went to investigate. We had both seen it in Lisbon. Something personal had happened. It had been obvious.

It was then that Rigsby rounded the corner from the direction of Lisbon's office and beyond, looking at me and Cho questioningly.

'What's going on?' he asked, stopping just beside us.

'Jane's back...' I answered, seeing an interrogation room door close behind the two just down the corridor.

'Huh? Since when?'

'Lisbon just brought him in. He was at her apartment...'

Rigsby followed my gaze down the corridor, 'Can we see him?'

'Uh...we're letting Lisbon talk to him for a bit.'

'Is he ok?'

'I don't know. He seemed a bit quiet considering what happened the other day...I hope he'll be ok...'

I felt Rigsby's hand on my back, trying to offer some support. I smiled sadly, looking down at the floor, scuffing the floorboards with my shoe before turning to return to the bull pen. I landed heavily in my chair, swivelling round to face my desk and staring at my computer screen for no real reason.

I heard a quiet voice behind me, 'Is that your friend...Jane?'

I smiled softly, letting out a short breath. I looked round at Eleanor's inquisitive face as she sat on the edge of the couch.

'Yeah. That was him.'

'Is he ok?' she asked, like an echo of Rigsby's question.

'Honestly? I don't know.'

'Can I meet him?' She smiled, perking up slightly as she leant slightly to see beyond the bullpen and down the corridor.

'Uh...not yet. He's...not feeling well right now,' I told her awkwardly. I wished I didn't have to think up the words to explain to a twenty seven year old with the mind of a five year old why she couldn't talk to Jane. I was too busy trying to think about him myself.

Eleanor cocked her head to the side, her smiling falling away, 'What's wrong?'

'I...don't really know, Eleanor.'

'Oh... he'll get better right?'

'Yeah...' I couldn't tell whether I was telling her, or myself, 'I'm sure he will.'

Eleanor smiled softly, shuffling back into the couch again, and pulling her knees up to her chin. She let her left hand sit just over the gap between the cushions, as she rested her cheek on her knee.

* * *

'Jane...'

'Lisbon?'

I took a deep breath, my hand subconsciously drifting over the smooth surface of the table towards him. 'Do you...do you know what happened to you?'

His head cocked slightly, looking at me strangely.

'What made you try to kill me? What made you kiss me?' I was surprised at how easy those two questions had been to say.

He seemed to think about it, his face contorting with confusion. He didn't reply. I could almost hear the cogs whirring inside his head, but I didn't know what those cogs were spinning for.

'W...what are you thinking?' I murmured, my head tilting to mimic his.

From where his eyes had been staring just past my head, they came back to rest on mine silently. I wished that this barrier between us was gone, so I could just talk to him; see what his mind was trying to say. I shifted in my chair, beginning to feel uneasy in his sudden silence...under his penetrating gaze.

'Do you remember anything?'

'My head...it hurts,' he replied, slowly closing his eyes and bringing his elbows up onto the table, his head falling into his hands. His fingers tangled in his hair, rubbing at his head.

'What happened?'

'I...don't...I don't _know_.'

'How about I get you a cup of tea?' I suggested softly. It was something which I thought might help him relax, cheer him up... whatever he needed right now. Tea was bound to help to some extent. Jane without tea was like... Van Pelt without Rigsby, it was just never going to work.

Despite his silence, I stood from my chair and stuck my head out the door to call for someone to make Jane a cup.

'Van Pelt?' I called down the corridor to the first person I had seen.

'Yeah, boss?' she replied, seeming to have jumped when she heard my voice.

'Can you make a cup of tea please? You know...in that greeny blue one Jane likes?'

'Uh...sure...' she replied, creasing her eyebrows a little in confusion, '...How is he?'

'I don't know...confused,' I told her, 'Bring that cup of tea down here when you've made it.'

'...Ok.'

I retreated back into the room, softly shutting the door behind me as I returned to my seat. Jane hadn't appeared to have moved, his face still buried in his hands. I sat quietly, not wanting to cause further disturbance to his obviously fragile state. We sat in silence for a while, and I could find nothing to do with myself except watch Jane's slouched figure. I was trying to understand why his head hurt, but I was no expert on hypnosis, and I was certainly no expert on him.

I imagined ideas in my head. I imagined his suppressed conscious, the real, normal Jane, trying to claw through the layers of damage that Red John had forced on him, trying to resurface. The image in my head was making my throat feel dry and tight, choking on the feelings that I was imagining I had, from Jane's perspective. It felt like I was having a dizzying, sickening head rush, continuously losing my balance and falling to the ground. Before I could bring myself back to my own feelings, my hand was reaching out, fingers brushing over Jane's bare forearm. His skin was hot to my touch, like he was battling a fever. He didn't respond to my touch though...

When I heard the knock on the door, I jumped slightly, my hand recoiling quickly as I composed myself again.

'Come in,' I said. When nothing happened, I realised my voice had been far too quiet for anyone to be able to hear. I pulled myself up and reached for the door myself. Van Pelt stood outside, a steaming cup of tea in her hand, in the cup that I had asked for.

'Thanks,' I smiled weakly.

'What's going to happen now?' Van Pelt had almost turned to leave, before the obviously pressing question had turned her back round again, 'What are we going to do?'

There was worry deep in her eyes, and I could suddenly see how much she had been holding it together when she was around me. I had been a wreck, leaving no real room for anyone else to be able to worry. I felt guilty.

'Uh...' I collected my thoughts a moment to try to answer her question, 'Could you call Dr Daniel for me?'

She seemed to take a moment to realise who I was talking about, but eventually nodded. 'Sure.'

I knew that Dr Royston Daniel was an experienced hypnotherapist, and if that's what Jane was; hypnotised, than he would surely be the most likely person to be able to get him out of it. Besides, he could return the favour that we had given him; saving his life. Now he could save Jane's for us.

I took the cup of tea to the table, placing the cup lightly on the table top and pushing it toward Jane. I saw his arm twitch slightly, whether in the recognition of one of his favourite smells, or something else, I couldn't tell, but he lifted his head all the same.

'Got some tea for you... maybe it'll help with the headache.'

He stared at the warm brown liquid filling his favourite cup. I didn't know if he recognised that it was his favourite...but anything could help, and I would try what I could without being a qualified hypnotherapist.

I reached for the keys clipped to my waistband to un-cuff him. I figured that Jane was too weak to try anything right now, and I wanted him to be able to drink his tea, even if it wouldn't help all that much. Pulling the metal away from his slightly reddened wrists, I stowed them back on my belt along with the keys. He rubbed at the red circles on his flesh, flexing his wrists before he gingerly took up the cup in his hand, delivering a sip of tea to his lips.

'It's gonna be ok,' I murmured, gently resting my hand over his tea-free hand as it lay on the table, 'We're going to get someone in to help you.'

Jane looked up from his cup of tea, studying me as I made my promises to him. His eyes seemed a little brighter now.

'We've got so much to talk about once this is over...' I told him with a sad flicker of a smile, 'So much.'

I ran my thumb over knuckle to thumb joint, feeling the subtle roughness of his skin underneath my own flesh, 'I love you.'

I didn't care if he remembered those words once he was ok again. They were true, and I was sick of trying to hide them behind a mask that I was forced to wear. I loved him. And there was no running from it. Not anymore.


	15. The Good Doctor Lisbon

_**A/N: YAY! Chapter 15. I feel really happy right now cos I just finished this chapter and it's super long, which makes me happy, and I'm listening to a happy song, so YAY. I hope you enjoy :3 It just took three attempts to spell 'enjoy' right... :P**_

Chapter 15. The Good Doctor Lisbon.

'Well he's definitely under hypnosis,' Dr Daniel confirmed, looking closely into Jane's eyes, 'But that's the easy part.'

'Now you have to find the trigger, right?' I replied, looking over his shoulder.

He stood from his crouching position in front of Jane's chair and turned to face me, 'Exactly.'

'Is there anything we can do to help?' My gaze flickered to Jane's as he watched us talking.

'Well, do you have any idea what the trigger could be? Any idea at all? It could be physical contact, something he's seen, or heard.'

'No...'

'No matter, we'll find it eventually,' Dr Daniel assured me, 'And... is this a place where he's likely to feel safe?'

'Uh...yeah, he would.'

I would have suggested his couch to be the safest place for Jane, but that was too much in the open, with too many people walking past. This needed to be private.

'Ok, well, I guess I'll start then. Do you want to stay? You're quite welcome to if you want.'

'Yes. I'm staying,' I replied automatically, barely giving it any thought.

'Ok then.'

I stepped back a little, moving to the opposite side of the table to where Jane and Dr Daniel were. I wanted to stay to make sure Jane would be ok. Besides, it would probably be good to have someone familiar in the room.

'Now, Patrick,' Dr Daniel started, using first names to create a more relaxed and informal atmosphere, he had told me, 'I want to make sure you know what's going to happen now.'

I knew that Jane should, and would normally know exactly what was going to happen right now, but the apprehensive look he directed my way told me that the hypnosis had affected him badly. I was wondering whether the sudden switch of direction in feelings had tangled his mind up a bit too much, or whether it was because his mind was so sharp that it was trying to escape the clutches of the hypnosis itself and getting deeper and more stuck in the process, but either way, Jane was lost in there somewhere, and I hoped against all hopes that Dr Daniel would be able to fix him without complications.

'You're in a deep sense of hypnosis, and I need to fix that for you. So how about we just close our eyes... just shut everything out but the sound of my voice. Listen to my voice as you concentrate on the sound, and sensation of the air passing into, and out of your lungs... You're relaxing as you listen... in and out...'

I watched as Jane's eyes fluttered closed, and his shoulders relaxed, his whole body relaxing as Dr Daniel spoke his soft, calming words to him. I never thought I'd see the day when Jane's head would be getting messed around with all the hypnosis and mind control business, but here I was, watching the Doctor lull Jane into a peaceful, tranquil state of mind.

'In... and out... ok, that's good. That's good Patrick. Now, just continue to concentrate on that feeling of relaxation you have inside. I'm going to try and find the trigger now; the key to unlocking you again. Just maintain that sense of calm... Don't let anything spoil it...'

As Jane seemed to sleep, the Doctor lifted his hand, and gently patted the side of his knee, waiting for a reaction, but observing none but a slight jerk in his hand. He slowly moved up to mid thigh, continuing to carefully observe as he patted Jane's arm. I could see a slight twitch in Jane's expression as the Doctor continued; a flicker of discomfort. The next few pats brought it on stronger and I couldn't help but move forward and crouch beside Jane, taking his hand in my own to try and provide some sort of comfort. I ran my thumb across the back of his hand, drawing small circles.

'It's ok...' I murmured softly.

Dr Daniel looked over at me as I continued my attempts to try and make this easier on Jane, a flicker of an understanding smile on his lips before he turned back to his subject.

'Don't worry about anything Patrick, there's nothing here that will hurt you. Just try and untangle your mind... keep twisting, and unravelling, and slowly pulling yourself out... you're just like a Chinese puzzle... unravel... release the tension...'

Dr Daniel switched to the opposite side of Jane's body, and patted his right knee, carefully monitoring his reactions as he completed the rest of the trigger attempts.

My contact seemed to be helping in some sense. Jane didn't seem to be feeling as much discomfort now as I continued to rub soothing patterns into his hand, and let my warmth transfer to him.

'Well, I can't seem to find a physical trigger,' Dr Daniel whispered to me, 'And visual and auditory triggers could literally be anything... Do you know who hypnotised him? The trigger is likely to be more personal to the one doing the hypnotising, or something important to do with the relationship between the two.'

'Yeah, we know who did it,' I told him, feeling a twinge of anger, 'Let's say their relationship hasn't exactly been a good one.'

Understatement of the year; well done Teresa.

'Is there anything you can tell me about it?'

'Uh...' I started, letting out a deep breath, 'He killed Jane's wife and child.'

I suddenly felt a strong reaction coming from Jane. His hand had jerked inside mine, and as I looked up, he seemed to become more and more distressed, his expression contorting with pain and discomfort.

'Jane?' I spoke, taking his hand in both of mine, stroking up and down his arm soothingly. He was shaking violently.

'Hey, it's ok,' I murmured, 'It's ok...'

I stood, keeping one hand around Jane's, and bringing the other up to stroke his cheek softly, brushing back his hair as he continued to panic. 'Jane. Come on, it's ok.' But no matter how much I tried to talk him out of it, he wouldn't calm. It had been a reaction to what I said to Dr Daniel, I was sure. Jane was vulnerable, and I had mentioned his wife and child loud enough for him to hear, and react, even within his safe cocoon of Dr Daniel's calming words. I cursed myself as I looked down to the Doctor for help. He placed his hand on Jane's knee, squeezing it softly as he began to speak.

'Patrick, whatever you're seeing right now is not real. Come back out of it; follow the sound of my voice... just step out of it. It's safe here...'

With another squeeze on Jane's knee, he broke out of it, his eyes snapping open as a slight sweat made his forehead sparkle dully in the glow of the overhead lights. His eyes darted left and right, a fear that I had never seen before reflecting in the soft green pools.

His gaze briefly met with mine.

'Jane, it's ok, you're safe,' I tried to assure him.

He seemed to ignore me, or maybe didn't believe me as he shot up out of his seat and pushed through me and Dr Daniel on his way out of the room. I immediately made after him - I wasn't about to let him escape again. I needed to keep him here so we could fix him.

Just as I got out of the door, I saw Jane disappear round the corner towards the elevators, causing many eyes to look in our direction as I chased after him.

'Damn it...' I cursed under my breath. If he escaped...I ran as fast as I could, finding him stabbing the button to the elevator in the hope that the elevator would arrive, and the doors would open faster.

'Jane!' I called, as I came to a stop. He looked back over his shoulder at me, his expression unreadable. It was only a few seconds before the doors pinged open, and he was dashing inside, pushing a button for what I assumed was the ground floor. I didn't even think of the dangers of being in a small box, high above the ground with an unstable man in panic-stricken flight mode. I ran forward, slipping through the gap as the doors were closing. I was straight away met face to face with Jane. I stared into his eyes, barely able to form words as his accusing gaze scorched me.

'Jane...don't leave. Y-you need to stay. We need to help you...'

His jaw clenched as his stare persisted. The wind was almost knocked out of me as he pushed me back to the elevator wall, his hands either side of my head as I grimaced in pain, my back having hit the hand rail hard.

'Just leave me alone,' he whispered harshly.

'I can't do that...' I replied, swallowing thickly, 'I...I'm not going to let you leave.'

I could feel the elevator slowing as Jane's angry gaze bit into me. My heart was pummelling. Any moment now, Jane would be trying to run from the elevator and out of the door, yet I couldn't seem to move to be able to do anything. It would be approximately three seconds before the elevator came to rest, and another four before the doors opened. Seven seconds. If I couldn't escape the fix he was holding over me in those seven seconds, he would be out the door.

I watched his jaw clench again. I could see his brain working, figuring out something I didn't know. Suddenly, his lips crashed down on mine, and he almost sucked the strength out of me as his lips worked over mine. I could barely respond before the doors had pinged and he had broken away again, dashing out of the doors and making a run for the exit. It took a couple of seconds to bring myself round again before I could make chase. It felt like I would fall over as I ran; my legs felt like jelly.

'Stop him!' I yelled, knowing that I wouldn't be able to catch him on my own. Not now. Jane knew that it would slow me down. He must have. I caught the attention of almost everyone in the lobby, and it wasn't long before a few security guards caught my drift and began to run after Jane. I fell to a walk, and finally to a halt in the middle of the floor, feeling that I would collapse at any moment. I pushed a hand through my hair in frustration.

I couldn't even begin to describe the relief though, when the security guards returned through the door, bringing Jane with them. He was in handcuffs again, struggling against his captors. I let my head fall back, shutting my eyes and wiping my hand over my forehead.

'Thank you,' I sighed, giving them a nod before taking Jane from them. I noticed a slight graze on his forehead as I took him back to the elevator. It was when my hand felt hot and sticky that I found thick scarlet liquid on my fingers, and realised there was blood dribbling from his elbow. They must have tackled him to the ground hard...

I stabbed the button for the elevator, opening the doors automatically this time, and guided Jane inside. He made a clear effort to resist, but I wouldn't let him out of my grip.

'You're not going anywhere, so just stop, ok?'

He stopped when the doors snapped shut, but he wouldn't look at me. He looked in the opposite direction to me, finding the wall more interesting.

'Don't make this hard, Jane. I'm trying to help you,' I told him.

He didn't reply, but I saw his jaw clench frustratedly.

'I thought you trusted me.'

Jane's head snapped round, looking me deep in the eyes. I refused to be taken in and manipulated again. I stood my ground. His gaze drifted again as the elevators opened once more. I could see my three agents stand from their seats as I brought Jane back in. I wasn't in the mood to explain, I simply took Jane back to the interrogation room where Dr Daniel was waiting before I went to fetch some warm water, cotton buds and band aids.

I was washing my hands and filling a bowl with water from the faucet when Rigsby entered the break room behind me.

'What's going on, boss?'

I cast a brief glance over my shoulder. I felt tired, wiped out, and I could barely muster up the effort to speak, but I managed it all the same.

'Jane did a runner. We caught him before he got too far.'

'Are you alright?'

'I'm fine,' I replied, 'Just need to sort Jane out.'

No matter how hard this was on me, I didn't care. I knew this wasn't about me, and I wasn't about to make it that way.

'I'll sort out his grazes and get back to fixing him again with Daniel.'

'Do you need help? We're here, y'know.'

I nodded, recognising the fact that Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho were all sat outside waiting upon news that Jane was ok again. 'We're fine. But I promise I'll tell you everything that happens, ok?'

Rigsby nodded, and I thought he had left again, but as I turned off the tap, I felt hands on my shoulders, turning me away from the sink. I was confused at first, but I let out a sigh as Rigsby looked down at me worriedly.

'I'm ok, I promise,' I lied feebly.

'Don't lie,' he told me. I was wondering what he was doing still holding my shoulders. Rigsby looked deep into my eyes, with a concern that I almost couldn't take. I let my eyes trail away from his.

He suddenly pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me. I nearly complained, but thought better of it when I realised how much I needed it. I let my arms circle round his back, my fingertips just touching.

'Thanks...' I murmured.

He gave me a gentle squeeze before pulling away and smiling reassuringly, 'Don't worry. I know you'll be able to help him, and we'll all be there when he comes out on the other side.'

I smiled weakly and nodded, gathering up the things I needed from the counter and taking them to the interrogation room.

When I returned, Dr Daniel was speaking to Jane again, calming his anger enough for us to be able to continue. I brought the items round to Jane's left, crouching beside his chair and dipping a cotton bud in the warm water to clean off his arm. Squeezing out some of the excess water, I cleaned off the blood that had dribbled down his arm first, gently wiping it away until the cotton bud was saturated with crimson. I picked a new one. I continued my work, despite Jane watching me like a hawk, twisting his arm slightly to see what I was doing. Once the blood was cleared, I peeled the paper wrapper off one of the band aids and stuck it carefully over the graze.

Dr Daniel stood up out of the way so I could get to clean Jane's forehead.

'Are you alright, Miss Lisbon?' Dr Daniel asked, watching me with concern.

'I'm fine,' I replied defensively, beginning on a smaller dribble of blood above Jane's right eye. Jane grimaced slightly as I applied a little pressure to clean off a dry scarlet stain, 'And it's nothing that concerns you.'

Dr Daniel seemed to back off. I didn't mean to be harsh, but I was feeling frustrated. I was tired of the games that Jane was playing on my mind. Obviously it wasn't his fault. It was Red John. But I just wanted it to be over now. I was sick of feeling like my head was doing back flips and tangling itself, spinning round and round in loops until it was hard to think. I was sick of seeing Jane sat right in front of me, yet he was no where near at the same time. I pressed the second band aid to his forehead and turned away from him, ignoring the green orbs following me like if he let his gaze wander for one second, he would fall away into dust.

'Keep trying, Doctor, I'll be back soon,' I told Daniel, taking the kit from the room again.

I didn't return straight away. I poured myself a mug of coffee, simply standing against the counter in the break room, the mug held close to my lips. I blew across the surface of the steaming liquid absently, both my hands encompassing the caffeine-filled ceramic. I took a slow sip every now and then, staring ahead, but not really seeing anything. I guess that's called staring into space. I was staring into the space I could feel between myself and Jane. Not just the physical space, but the mental space; the space between where my mind was, and where his was. If I could just walk back into that dully lit room, and the first thing I did would bring him out of it, I would be running there right now, but I didn't know how long this was going to take. Red John was a bastard. It wasn't going to be that simple.

I was stood there for ten minutes before I had drained my mug thoroughly. Every time it appeared as though I had finished, I let the coffee remnants dribble back down to the bottom, forming a new pool before drinking that, and so on. Another five minutes and I really couldn't get anything more out, not even a tiny droplet. I ditched the mug in the sink and sighed heavily, pushing myself off from the counter and making my way back to the interrogation room. I still hadn't noticed the strange girl on the couch, staring at me inquisitively every time I walked past the bull pen.

* * *

I looked up from my card game, watching the dark haired lady cross the corridor for the fifth time since she'd arrived. I wondered who she was. She was the one who had brought Patrick Jane back. She seemed scared. Not on the surface, but underneath. She looked like she had the same feelings I used to get when Jacob had first left me at the hospital. But she also seemed to be frustrated and tired. It was because of Patrick Jane, I was sure. I had seen the way she looked at him. Despite the bad feelings, she had other ones, special ones. Just for him. But she was worried about him now, because he was sick.

'When you get better, she's going to be so happy...' I murmured, turning back to Patrick, 'You just wait.'

I placed down a card on the pile in the middle of the couch, 'Snap!' I grinned excitedly, '...Y'know, you're supposed to try and answer faster than me, because otherwise you won't win.'

I placed down a card from Patrick's deck for him.

I looked up briefly when the phone rang on Grace's desk. She picked it up and held it to her ear as I returned to the game to place one of my cards down.

'Dr Newman?' I heard her say. My head shot back up and I watched Grace, a strange feeling growing in the pit of my tummy.

'What? She's gone?' Grace said down the phone, giving me a look. I pleaded silently that she wouldn't let me go back with them. I didn't want to sit in a white room while people in white coats stared at me and studied me. I wasn't sick anymore. Grace had helped me, and I would rather stay with her than go back to that place. Grace was my friend.

'No, I don't know where she is... we haven't got her. She was meant to stay there for her safety.'

Grace smiled softly at me, and I returned it, happy that she wasn't going to send me back. When she finished the call, a few minutes later, I ran up to her and wrapped my arms around her.

'Thank you, thank you, thank you!' I told her happily.

She laughed from underneath my hug, 'That's alright.'

I broke away and grinned at her before skipping back and jumping onto the couch. The piles of cards tumbled and skidded across the leather as I landed.

'Oops...' I murmured, giggling a little as I gathered them all up again, 'Sorry Patrick. But I'm really happy; Grace isn't going to send me back to the hospital! I didn't like it there. What's your favourite color? Mine's blue, but the hospital was all white. It was boring. I mean it's not like it's going to hurt if I had a blue room? Blue's pretty. Blue would have made me happier. I know it's a chilly colour, but I used to make blue cupcakes with mom. It always made me happy when I was sad. Maybe I'll make you a blue cupcake and then you'll be alright again...'

* * *

It was nearing the end of the day, and I was shattered now. The late evening was approaching, and Dr Daniel hadn't managed to solve Jane's predicament. I would have asked him to continue searching if it weren't for the fact that I was yawning every few seconds, each time making my eyes go blurry with sleepiness. We were going to leave it for the night; leave Jane in a holding cell, safe and sound.

Daniel brought Jane round from his trance, and I carefully walked around to his side, offering my hand to him and nodding towards the door, 'Come on. Time to get some rest, ok?'

Jane nodded, easily complying and taking my hand in his own.

'Thank you for your work so far, Doctor... see you tomorrow.'

Dr Daniel nodded with a soft smile, pushing his hands into his pockets. 'No problem.'

I guided Jane from the room, stifling another yawn behind my fist. It was easier to feel at peace when I was too tired to care. I squeezed Jane's hand softly. I was glad that he'd been able to stay still for the rest of the time Dr Daniel had been working with him. I'd also been careful not to mention Jane's wife and child again.

We were stood by the elevator, waiting for it to arrive so I could take Jane down to the holding cells. I didn't like the idea of having to leave him in a cell like he was some kind of criminal, inside the cold and unkind concrete walls, but it was the only place where he would be safe, and he wouldn't be able to run off. The doors pinged, and I was about to take Jane into the elevator, but I was stopped by a rough grapple on my shoulder, yanking me backwards away from Jane, and the open doors. Within a couple of seconds, I had a sharp blade pressed to my throat, and I was spluttering for air. My heart pounded as Jane swung round to see what had happened.

'Kristina...' he murmured.

It was her? I knew she wasn't right from the start. This had to be Red John's back up plan or something.

'Kristina...what are you doing?' Jane asked her.

'You failed to do what Red John asked of you, Patrick. Now I have to do it.'

'What?'

'Red John asked you to kill her, Patrick, and you didn't. You let yourself get caught. I'm the back up plan!' she laughed softly, pressing the blade to my neck a little harder. I swallowed hard, causing a momentary spike of pain as the movement caused the blade to dig in slightly.

'Think about what you're doing Kristina...' I murmured, my throat dry.

'You don't think I'm thinking about it? It's racing through my head, Agent! Just keep pressing the blade until there's just a _teeny _bit of blood, and then... _swipe! _She's gone!'

'Kristina, don't!' Jane pleaded. I could see he was itching to run forward.

'Why not? It was the plan all along wasn't it? It was my instruction! If Jane fails, you do it, Kristina!'

'You can't! Because...' Jane stopped, 'Because I love her...'

I almost forgot to breathe for a moment. I felt tears crowd my eyes in a split second as the blade pressed harder, and the words sunk in. It didn't matter that Jane was under hypnosis right now. It was him saying those words for me. I let my head fall back slightly as I pulled in extra breaths. My throat ached with the emotion and a single tear trembled as it ran down my cheek.

'You _love _her?' Kristina scoffed.

'I do. You can't do this.'

'Oh really? You're weaker than he must have thought...'

'I won't let you do it.'

'You're going to stop me?'

Jane's gaze flickered to mine briefly. I could see the fear in his eyes. But the loss of eye contact was enough for Kristina.

I let out a half-strangled cry as the blade skimmed across my throat, leaving a shallow cut lengthways. I could feel a droplet of warm blood trickling down my chest as I squeezed my eyes tight against the pain.

'Teresa!' Jane yelled. His voice seemed to be swimming inside my head, fluctuating in volume and pitch. I felt dizzy but I did my best to stand upright. I controlled my breathing... in and out... in and out. I could hear Dr Daniel's voice in my head from when he'd first spoken to Jane.

'_Listen to my voice as you concentrate on the sound, and sensation of the air passing into, and out of your lungs... You're relaxing as you listen... in and out...'_

I blocked out the sound of Kristina's soft laugh, I concentrated on the air swirling inside my lungs, filling my chest, and blowing out between my lips, deflating my chest...

It was then that I took my chance. In the space of a millisecond, I had my hands on Kristina's arm, yanking it away from my throat and pushing it down until I could spin on the spot, pulling her arm up behind her. The swift motion and the pain that I imagined to be shooting through her arm caused her hand to release the knife, sending it tumbling to the floor. I grappled my handcuffs from my belt, thankful for having taken them off Jane when I was confident he wouldn't make another run for it. I quickly snapped them around her wrist, bringing it down to meet the other so I could secure both behind her back. She cried out in pain as I jerked her arms, but I didn't care. I had blood dribbling from my throat. A slight ache in the limbs was nothing.

'Jane, with me.'

I pushed Kristina towards the bull pen, holding my fingers to my neck to try and stop the dribble of blood. It was in the break room that I found Cho lingering. I wasn't sure where Van Pelt and Rigsby were.

'Boss? Are you ok?'

'Take Kristina to a holding cell would you?'

Cho nodded, taking Kristina as I pushed her his way, 'What happened?'

'Red John's plan B. I'm fine, don't worry. Just get her out of here.'

Cho nodded. He was more worried than he sounded, but he complied with my orders anyway; one of the things I valued in him sometimes.

I moved over to the sink as Cho left and Jane followed me. I grabbed some kitchen paper from a roll beside the sink and ran it under the cold tap, before holding it to my throat to cool the heat and ebb the trickle of blood. I took a few deep breaths, letting my head hang over the sink, and my hair fall down in curtains on either side of my face. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder as I listened to the slight wheeze in my breathing. I turned a little, seeing Jane behind me. I circled round from the sink and leant back on it. He moved forward, taking the tissue from me and dabbing my neck; cleaning away the drying blood. He carefully wiped up the trail that had dribbled down my chest, before holding a clean side of the tissue to my neck. His eyes flickered to mine.

'Thank you...' I said.

* * *

I stood in front of Jane as he sat on the bed in a holding cell. I'd brought down extra cushions and blankets from his couch if he wanted them.

'Goodnight,' I told him, a soft smile lifting the corners of my lips as I dug my hands in my pocket. Those three words he'd said had drained all the bad feelings I had now.

'I'll come get you in the morning alright? Make you a cup of tea or something before we get going again.'

He nodded. 'I do love you,' he murmured quietly.

I smiled a little more, resting my hand on his neck as I leant down to press a kiss to his forehead. I turned on the spot, wandering to the door...

'Uhh...Lisbon? Why am I in a holding cell?'


	16. Sink or Swim?

_**A/N: Wow, it's been a while. Well, I guess I got distracted by my new Buffy video collection, making a plushie for a birthday, making a Walter Mashburn plushie... ah well. Enjoy!**_

_**P.S. The changed the name of the last chapter, because I decided that Sink or Swim? better suited this chapter. The last chapter is now called The Good Doctor Lisbon.**_

Chapter 16. Sink or Swim?

My heart almost stopped. The voice behind me had changed. It wasn't a voice at war with itself. It wasn't a voice scared of itself. It was Jane. Just Jane. I could barely gather the courage to turn round, just in case I was dreaming.

'Lisbon?' I heard him repeat.

I suddenly felt overwhelmed with happiness, and I spun on the spot, dashing back to the man who had barely stood up before I had enveloped him in a tight hug. I squeezed my eyes tight shut, a wide smile spreading on my face as I held him. I couldn't seem to hold him close enough to satisfy the pang of need that I felt tugging at my heart strings.

'Uh...Lisbon...are you ok?'

I felt his hand patting my back awkwardly, but when he caught on that I wasn't going to let go any time soon, both his arms wrapped around me carefully. I breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling moisture build up behind my eyelids.

'I'm so glad you're back,' I murmured.

'...I went somewhere?'

'You have no idea how far away you went.'

'I really don't.'

'I missed you.'

I knew I was confusing him, but I didn't care. I was far too happy that he was back, and right now, I didn't want to have to explain anything. I just wanted to hold him and make sure he didn't go anywhere else for a long time.

It felt like an eternity had passed when I stepped back, but at the same time, it felt too soon.

'So...you going to tell me what's going on?'

'Come back upstairs. You want a cup of tea? I'll get you a cup of tea. Then we'll talk about it, ok?'

'...Ok,' Jane replied, clearly still confused, but he followed anyway, 'Wouldn't mind some paracetamol with that... my head's killing me.'

'Sure.' I smiled softly.

* * *

'Thanks...' Jane murmured as I pushed the tea cup in front of him, along with a couple paracetamol on the saucer. I settled in the chair across the table from him and watched as he carefully lifted the pills to his lips and swallowed them down with a sip of tea. I shifted uncomfortably as he placed the cup down again and lifted his gaze to mine.

'Uh...' I started slowly, 'Do you remember anything?'

'I... don't know. What am I supposed to remember?'

'What happened to you? Do you remember going into the old police station a couple days ago?'

He hesitated for a moment, his expression contorted with concentration, '...You were scared... I... I kissed you on the cheek...'

My cheek suddenly burned, as if remembering the contact of his lips on my skin.

'Yeah, you did...'

'But... I don't remember anything afterwards. Lisbon... what happened to me?'

I could see a fear in his eyes that I wasn't used to seeing. I tried to figure out the best ways of telling him - the best ways to put it. I sighed, looking down at my hands on the table surface briefly. 'I don't know exactly what happened inside, but we know that Red John... he kidnapped you. He took you away before we could stop him.'

Jane's jaw clenched, and his gaze ventured elsewhere as the words sank in.

'We believe he hypnotised you to try and get you to carry out his purposes.'

'He hyp-' he paused, 'Wait... what purposes?'

I swallowed nervously. We'd reached the point which I didn't want to have to reach. I had no idea how Jane would react to learning of his actions. If he took it badly, I wasn't sure what would happen, and I wasn't sure I wanted to cause anything to go wrong.

'Lisbon,' he prompted anxiously, 'What purposes?'

'Uh...' I began, taking a deep breath, 'It seems he wanted you to kill me.'

He simply stared at me for a while, and I couldn't read his expression.

'I didn't hurt you did I?'

'No, you didn't,' I told him quickly, 'I'm fine.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah, I'm sure, don't worry,' I replied. I almost joked about dodging his bullets, but I stopped myself, not wanting to make him worry even more.

'What did I do?'

'You were gone for a couple of days after Red John took you, and then you came to my apartment one evening brandishing a gun... but you know what the weird thing was? You were banging at the door, I didn't know it was you, and I accidentally managed to call you when I was trying to get hold of one of the guys. I was about to cancel the call when there was ringing from outside the door,' I laughed softly, looking down at my hands again, 'You scared the crap out of me.'

Jane seemed to be watching the gentle ripples in his tea as he twisted the cup round on the saucer, causing a soft squeaking noise to emit from the ceramic pieces.

'So... if that was one evening, what's happened since then?'

I swallowed again, 'I got away from the apartment... uh... if your back's hurting at all... sorry.'

When Jane gave me a look of confusion, I continued, 'I may have elbowed you in the back to get away... so... sorry about that. But I drove here to get the team. When we got back, you had disappeared. All we could do was wait for you to show up again. We were worried that you'd gone back to Red John.'

I brought my hand up to scratch the back of my neck. The next part was the more difficult part; I planned to tiptoe around it as carefully as possible. Blowing out a stream of air through my lips, I carried on.

'It was another two days or so until you showed up again. I went back to the apartment to get some rest, and you were there, waiting for me.'

'What happened? I didn't try to hurt you again did I?'

'No... no you didn't...' I replied. '_Quite the opposite_,' I told myself.

I watched Lisbon as she momentarily seemed to drift off into an alternate universe. I tried to read the expression on her face; tried to decipher the smaller meanings in the drifting of her gaze. But the paracetamol still hadn't kicked in and my head was throbbing far too much to be able to concentrate. The moment only lasted for a couple of seconds before she was looking at me again, mentally collecting herself together once more.

But it was then, when our eyes connected again, that my head gave a violent throb, my ears ringing with the sound of a gunshot, and I was stood inside a blurry, greyish landscape. Nothing could be identified at first, and I didn't know where my mind was taking me, but soon, I was watching two unfocused figures come into existence, running away from me. One held a gun out as they ran, sending a bullet slamming into a wall ahead, just as the other ducked their head down a flight of stairs. The scene flickered and I was watching the gun-wielding figure stumble slightly down the final steps of the staircase, into a wide stretch of nothing. Again, the image jolted and jumped until I was seeing a figure kneeling on the ground, their head in their hands.

The sound of screeching tyres was somewhere in the background, but I couldn't see a car. Only the figure was visible. I saw their hand lift momentarily, throwing a gun away to their far side before it returned to clutch at their hair. It was a little while later when they slowly began to pick themselves up from the floor on unstable legs. I didn't recognise the man for a moment, until his face formed and his features became visible. Then I realised it was me, stood alone, my face contorted with pain.

I watched as I stumbled past the discarded gun, towards a building in the background that I couldn't quite make out. I guessed it was Lisbon's apartment, from what she had been telling me, the tyres screeching being her SUV as she escaped. Slowly, my figure moved forward, but it suddenly went blank. My memory seemed to have faltered as I was brought back to the soft lights in the break room. I could hear Lisbon calling my name, and as my eyes focused back onto reality, I found myself staring into her eyes. She was looking at me worriedly, her fingers stretching across the table surface towards me.

'I... I _shot _at you?'

Her brow creased as her hand pulled back, 'You remembered?'

'I was chasing you. I fired at you,' I said, my throat feeling parched and dry.

'Well, yeah... but I'm fine, I promise. No bullet holes,' she replied. I could see she was trying to cover up and move on quickly; trying to reduce any emotional pressure it might put on me. I was touched, I really was, but it wasn't helping to untangle the horrible knots in my stomach, tightening every time that shot resounded in my ears. My head was a jumble of pain and mixed up thoughts right now, but I could still just about remember what we had shared before I had disappeared into the police station. I was scared that I had caused pain to her now, and she wasn't going to tell me because she wanted to protect me. She tried to reassure me again as I watched her face, trying to figure out what she was hiding from me.

'What happened at the apartment?' I repeated.

She must have seen the seriousness in my expression, in my tone of voice, because her gaze seemed to fix more fully on mine now. I saw her swallow nervously, like I was intimidating her with my stare, and I really didn't mean to, but I just wanted the truth. The whole truth. I wanted to make sure that I hadn't done anything stupid or offensive towards her.

It was when she shifted uncomfortably, squirming under the pressure, that I wished I hadn't pressed her. I would probably remember what had happened in the end anyway, and she didn't seem to like the idea of bringing whatever it was forward. I looked down at my tea briefly, feeling the need for a drink to soothe the dryness in my throat, but it didn't feel like the right moment to make much movement. Awkward silences were horrible places to be. But the awkwardness faded a little in favour of curiousness when I looked up once more and saw a slight pink building in her cheeks as she looked down at the table top. I tilted my head to the side slightly, my brows knitting together as I studied her expression.

'Lisbon? What happened?'

'Look, please don't get mad when I tell you this, because I did it to try and find out whether there were any clues to where you might have gone... and I was curious as to what you always did in that hidey-hole of yours...'

She paused for a moment, gauging my reaction.

'When you had been taken, I went up to your attic - I don't know why. I guess I just wanted to think. But it was when I was about to leave that I saw your book on your pillow, and I just wanted to know what was inside it. I'm sorry...'

I suddenly remembered the extra thing I'd written in the final pages of that book before I'd gone to the police station, and my pulse raised... I could feel it in my chest - a heavy pounding.

'I took it home so I could read it. I wish I hadn't taken it... but I guess things would have gone very differently if I hadn't. I'd hidden it under a cushion on the couch when you started banging at the door, and I think you somehow found it when I left. Because it was open on the table when I came back, on the last pages. I hadn't got to read that bit before you'd come knocking. But I read it, and I realised you must have read it too...'

She took a deep breath, a break, and I took a quick sip of tea, staring at the centre of the table as her voice filled the air once more.

'So something must have been triggered in your head, because when I saw you again... you didn't try to attack me...'

From the trailing off of Lisbon's voice, my gaze was pulled back up again to find her picking at a slight defect in the surface of the table. She stopped after a while and her eyes flickered briefly to mine.

'Jane...'

'...What?' I answered, awaiting an answer nervously, my stomach filling with the fluttering of a thousand butterflies as she paused for far too long.

'You were waiting in my room for me and... uh... you... you might have kissed me.'

The last five words came out in a flurry, and as I registered them, one by one, I withdrew from the table slightly. 'Wha...' I stopped, and tried again, '...What?'

I shook my head a little. 'I _might_ have?'

'Well... I say _might..._' She looked up at my speechless face before continuing, 'I'm sorry... I let it go on for far longer than I should have...'

'...How long?'

We both shared a look for about five seconds before she hurriedly confirmed that it hadn't gone _that _far.

'We uh... we _did_ get to the bed, but you were in handcuffs before much longer.'

'...Handcuffs... right...'

'Yeah...'

I cleared my throat after a momentary silence. 'Uhh, I'm gonna go...' I pointed over my shoulder as I pushed my chair back, 'Think.'

* * *

I let myself sink down onto the chair in the attic, my eyes still slightly wider than usual, my brain still stumbling over the things that Lisbon had just told me. While I'd managed to remember a little bit more of what happened, I still hadn't got as far as that. I was trying to urge my brain on, trying to get it to remember... or was that just what I wanted to do while in reality, I was still glazed over? I couldn't tell, but I suddenly remembered my book. I quickly got up and sped towards it, gathering it up and getting back to my chair, flicking through to the pages at the back at the same time. I read, hoping that it might trigger some sort of memory or feeling that would help me recall.

I swallowed down nervously, telling myself that Lisbon had read this too. She now knew how I felt about her, and while the very first feeling I'd had when she told me was a slight anger towards the idea that she'd taken my book, the idea that we had kissed was washing it all away. Was I happy that we'd kissed? Was I scared? Was I frustrated that I'd done it when I couldn't think for myself properly? All these questions were buzzing around my head, and I wasn't sure which emotions to feel first.

It was then that my mind suddenly demisted a little more, and I found myself stood in a darkened bedroom, hidden away in the shadows. There was a short and low creaking noise as the hinges of the door opposite me began to move, and light trickled in from a lamp somewhere beyond the door frame. A figure stepped into the room; Lisbon. She came to a halt, looking around the room until her eyes fixed on me. She called out to me, unsure. I didn't reply. I moved forward, taking her wrists in my hands as I pushed her up against the wall.

Physically, my breathing hastened as I remembered more; as I watched my memories out like a movie. I began to feel it again; the excitement that had been buzzing through me as I had leant down and begun to run my lips over Lisbon's exposed neck. Before long, I was at her lips, working over them as I ran my hands down her sides. Her hands had begun to move up, circling round and clutching at the hair at the base of my neck. Feelings that I hadn't had in a long time were circling inside me as my brain played out the images that were now clear to me. Desire, passion, lust. I felt my fingers twitch slightly as I remembered the feel of Lisbon underneath them.

I was soon carrying Lisbon to the bed, placing her down and climbing on top of her, refusing to let my lips part with her flesh for more than a couple of seconds at a time. My hands pushed her shirt up, running across the bare skin of her stomach as my lips began to trail kisses across the expanse from navel to just below her bra. I suddenly heard the jingle of handcuffs, and the screen was blank again.

I snapped open my eyes, my breathing heavy and my body shaking. I picked myself up off the chair and ran my hand through my hair, pacing back and forth, the feelings still circling, and the images still echoing in my head. I couldn't tell whether this had made things more complicated, or whether it had helped us to tell each other what we felt, because I knew I would have tiptoed around it for as long as possible, unsure of what to do, or whether I felt ready to take a step in the right direction for once.

I must have paced for at least five minutes before I swerved from my trodden line and towards the door. Don't ask me what I was doing; I wasn't quite sure myself. I just knew that I wanted to see Lisbon again. I hadn't quite got as far as planning what I was going to say.

I was soon back down on the right floor, just outside the bullpen as I scanned for signs of Lisbon. I quickly found her in the break room, stood at the sink, filling a glass with water from the tap. I watched her take a sip, oblivious to me stood just outside the entrance. I paused for just a few seconds before stepping in. I moved silently behind her, her fallen hair preventing her from seeing me. I gently took her arm in my hand, feeling her jump slightly at my touch. She span quickly to face me.

'Jane! Sorry... I didn't hear you come in.'

'That was my intention.'

A slight look of confusion crossed her features as she looked up into my eyes. I lifted my hands to rest either side of her neck, and slowly leant downwards, bringing my lips to hers. It was a simple lingering contact, and when I broke away, I knew that I wanted more, but I didn't want to move too fast. I waited for Lisbon's eyes to open again.

'I think I'm glad about what happened the night you caught me Lisbon.'

'Really?'

'If I'd been left to it, I would have found it hard to tell you how I feel about you... but what happened, with the book, and the kiss... it makes it easier, because it's like the first steps have already happened.'

I let my hands travel along her shoulders and down her arms, slipping round her waist.

'So... you're ok with it then?'

'Lisbon?'

'Yeah?'

'I love you.'

I leant down to her again, our lips meshing once more as her hands looped around my neck. It felt like I was going to burst with happiness, excitement, love, as I pulled Lisbon closer to me, the taste of her lips giving me tingles from head to toe. It was this moment when I realised how long it really was that I had wanted to do this.

Suddenly, the sound of a throat clearing somewhere behind me made me pull away abruptly and quickly sweep a hand through my hair. I turned.

Cho was leaning against the wall at the entrance to the break room, evidently trying his best to hide a smirk that was dying to light up his lips.

'Hey Jane.'

'Cho.'

'You're ok?'

'Yeah, yeah I'm fine.'

'Found the trigger then?'

Lisbon nodded when I looked her way.

'Good... what was it, out of interest?'

'Uh... a tap on the forehead.'

I looked at Lisbon quizzically.

'By tap, you mean kiss?' Cho replied.

'That too.'

Cho nodded. 'Good. Good to see your back, Jane.'

I nodded.

Cho smirked. 'So... I guess I'll be off for the night then.'

'Night, Cho.'

'Night.'


	17. One Half of the YinYang

**A/N: So... um... xD Really big sorry for the _ridiculously _long wait. I just went through a massively silly period of not really being inspired to write. It got me annoyed. But the strange thing is, into exam season, I've suddenly found the writing power again xD I'm sure that's not s'posed to happen. But, hope you enjoy this new chappie!**

Chapter 17. One Half of the Yin-Yang.

I stayed at the CBI that night, up in my loft, on the make shift bed I used more often than Lisbon liked. I shrugged off my waistcoat, throwing it over the back of the chair by the window. Loosening a few buttons of my shirt, I sank down onto the bed, pulling my legs up and pushing my head into the softness of the pillow. I turned onto my back, my arms draped loosely over my stomach.

A soft milky glow spread over the room from the full moon that hung high over Sacramento. Stars twinkled in the sky, smudged and distorted through the window panes. I let out a soft breath, trying to decide on whether to focus on sleep, the finding of my memory, or Lisbon. I felt sleepy, my eyelids fluttering, trying to shut against my will.

Finally, I let them close, but I couldn't stop my brain from working. I could still taste Lisbon on my lips, and it brought a smile to my face. If only Cho hadn't walked in. I would have quite happily held her for longer.

Those memories ran over and over through my head, and before I had realised, they had guided me into sleep.

* * *

I was laying out on a moon-lit beach, the water moving like rippling velvet up the shore. I was staring up at the stars, bathing in the soft glow that fell over me. The grains of sand around me twinkled softly, luminescent in the darkened surroundings. It was peaceful. It felt like a world where nobody had a care in the world, where there was no war, no violence, no hatred, no greed. I didn't feel the need to be anywhere else but there.

But suddenly, I felt something grip around my waist and I was pulled through the sand, straight through, falling, and falling, and falling, until I landed in a chair, bright, cruel lights glaring at me. Restraints snaked around me and a dark figure moved forward, a needle glinting in the light, clear liquid squirting from the tip. I whimpered, trying to move away from the shadow, but I couldn't.

It was when the needle pushed into my arm, that my eyes snapped open, to the pale light of the early sun leaking through the murky windows. I stared at the ceiling, by breathing fast, my throat dry.

Red John.

I could see now. Red John had drugged me; placed a kiss on my forehead before whispering the instructions to kill.

I pulled myself up from the bed, pushing a hand through my tangled hair shakily.

You couldn't hypnotise someone against their will, so he'd taken my freewill away from me.

I got myself up, pulling my waistcoat over my crumpled shirt. I checked my phone for the time. 6.43 am. I hoped Lisbon would be here. I wanted to see her.

Making my way through the corridors and into the main area of the CBI, I probably looked like crap, but that was the least of my worries. I kept scratching at my arm, where I remembered the needle going through my skin. It felt hot, itchy, just from the memory. I soon found myself outside Lisbon's office. I could see her sat at her desk as I pushed through the door, thankful that she was here.

I gave my arm another scratch as I turned around in the space for a few moments, until I decided on heading for the couch. I was suddenly feeling nervous and uncomfortable. I didn't know why. Maybe it was the echo of the image of that mask in my head as it moved towards me with that needle, maybe that unnerving laugh. I didn't know.

'Mor...ning...' Lisbon greeted slowly, watching my erratic movements.

I scratched again.

'Jane, are you ok?'

I let my gaze flicker to hers briefly, seeing her concerned expression. She placed her pen down on the table. Her face was half saying 'What's wrong?' half saying 'You look awful.'

My finger nails kept scraping at my arm every now and then as I spoke.

'I remembered some more.'

Lisbon pushed up from her chair to join me on the couch. 'What happened?'

'Red John. He... he had me tied to a chair. He drugged me so I couldn't resist being hypnotised. He told me to kill you. Told me you'd taken Kristina away.'

I felt myself growing more and more uneasy as the memory kept repeating, like a broken tape recorder. I felt my eyes burning, tears pooling.

'Hey... hey, it's ok. Jane, it's ok.'

I felt Lisbon's hand rest over mine. She looked down at my shaking arm.

'Jane...' she murmured softly, lifting my other hand away from the red rawness just below the crease of my elbow. I stared down at the tiny beads of scarlet blood growing from the surface. I hadn't even realised how much I'd been scratching, but I'd managed to ruin the skin until it bled. I switched my gaze to Lisbon, looking into her eyes until I was brought down to the thin line of pinkish scarring across her throat.

'I'm sorry...' I spoke softly, 'I never wanted you to get hurt.'

I think Lisbon was a little scared. She looked lost; unsure of how to react.

'Jane, I'm fine,' she insisted, 'I'm more worried about you.'

She simply looked at me for a few seconds, before standing from the couch.

'Stay here, I'll be back in a minute.'

Pressing her lips to the top of my head, she left the room.

I sat there, the salty tears in my eyes starting to recede. I ran my hand over the sore flesh on my arm, smearing the droplets of blood across my arm in the process. It stung, but I could barely feel it. This memory was getting to me so much more than the others. I had been tied down and manipulated. I was feeling the fear and helplessness over and over again, every time the memory rewound and repeated. My mind had been penetrated, played with, and my feelings tossed around and mixed up. Red John had played the perfect game to make me feel vulnerable and defenceless. Was that the idea? If the plan didn't go through, then at least he would have played my mind into tangles and knots? I bent over, resting my forehead on my palms, pushing my hands through my hair.

I heard the door open again, the sound of Lisbon returning. I looked up to see her carrying a damp paper towel and a steaming cup of tea. I smiled weakly as she came to sit beside me again. She carefully pressed the cool paper towel against my arm, immediately reducing the burning sting and the itching. She then handed me the cup of tea.

'Thank you,' I offered quietly, staring at the rippling brown liquid, inhaling the soft scent of peppermint.

'Don't worry about it. Try not to let it get to you. I'm ok, you're back. We can make it the rest of the way.'

I nodded, taking a light sip from my cup.

'Besides, Kristina's downstairs in a holding cell. You need to help her. Keep yourself busy. Dr Daniel will be coming in again today. I didn't get round to calling him before, but he can help with Kristina anyway.'

At the sound of Kristina's name, my insides clenched with a strange sense of fear. My heart stepped up a pace. I didn't know why. It was a feeling that made me want to hold Lisbon close, and never let go. I suddenly realised that I couldn't really remember how Lisbon had got the scar on her throat.

'Lisbon...'

'What is it?'

'Why am I scared of Kristina?'

I didn't look at Lisbon, but from the prolonged silence, I could tell she was confused.

'What do you mean?'

'...Something didn't feel right when you said her name.'

'I don't know...' she began, 'Do you remember anything about her? Do you remember what happened yesterday?'

'I remember the police station... I saw her crying. What happened yesterday? I can't...'

'Red John must have hypnotised her too, before you saw her. She was the back up plan. In case you failed.'

'And what, she gave you that?'

I motioned at Lisbon's throat.

'Yes.'

After a moment, I took a sip of tea, trying to push out the bad feelings with the warm cosiness that the tea gave.

The memory resurfaced now. I remembered watching Kristina hold Lisbon back, a knife to her throat while I stood helplessly at the elevator. I remembered feeling the strong sense of fear for Lisbon, the desire to rush forward and snatch her out of harm's way. I remembered seeing the knife slide lightly across Lisbon's flesh, causing droplets of crimson blood to dribble from the wound...

It was just lucky that was only a warning cut, or Lisbon could have been dead, and I would have still been under hypnosis. It was unlikely that anybody else would be able to find the trigger...

I mentally shook myself.

'Can I go and see her?'

'Yeah. I'll take you down.'

Lisbon looked down at my arm, peeling back the now warm paper towel she'd placed over it. The skin was red, but the bleeding had subsided. Carefully, she dabbed away the remnants of the blood stain I'd rubbed across my skin before standing and throwing the towel in the bin.

'Do you want a band aid to cover that up?'

'Why not.' I smiled. Lisbon might as well have been my doctor; she'd already seemed to have patched me up twice before.

Taking me out into the break room, she rifled through one of the cupboards looking for the first aid kit. Before long, she claimed her prize and shut the cupboard door. Walking over to me, she waved a big band aid in front of me.

'Another for the collection?'

Lisbon grinned, peeling off the wrapper, and sticking it over the fiery red patch of skin.

'I should probably take those others off before you start looking like a mummy,' she said, standing back to look at me.

'Certainly don't want that to happen now do we...' I murmured as she reached up for the one on my forehead. I closed one eye as she gently removed the band aid, watching her look of concentration through the other. It brought a smile to my face. Lisbon's eyes moved down to mine briefly, catching my smile.

'What?'

'Nothing.'

* * *

'What are we going to be doing today?'

I turned to Eleanor as we walked out of the elevator, tilting my head slightly, 'I don't know. I'll have to work though. I'm sure we can find something for you to do.' I smiled at the red-headed girl.

We had just rounded into the bullpen, Eleanor immediately depositing herself onto the couch, when I caught sight of Jane and Lisbon in the break room. I noticed the smiles on both their faces as Lisbon pulled at a band aid on Jane's forehead. I watched a little longer, realising how _normal _Jane looked. Happy. Even if he did look a little scruffy and dishevelled still. I felt a smile spread across my own face as I walked round to the entrance of the break room.

'Jane.'

Hearing my voice, Lisbon dropped her arms, taking away the band aid as Jane looked round at me.

'Van Pelt.'

I was about to ask how he was, but suddenly felt more inclined to the 'move forward and hug' option. I enveloped him in a welcoming hug.

'Good to see you're alright again. We were worried.'

'Well it apparently took a few scrapes and bruises, but I'm back.' He smiled back.

'Take it easy for a while, ok?'

'I always take it easy.'

I grinned, 'I guess you do.'

'And you're ok?' I looked to Lisbon.

'Yeah, I'm good.'

From the smile she then gave, I could tell she was happy to have Jane back.

I suddenly heard a frantic whisper of my name from behind me. I turned to see Eleanor hiding behind the wall at the entrance to the break room.

'Uhh...' I began, returning to Jane and Lisbon as Eleanor poked her head out from behind me, chewing the edge of her sleeve tentatively.

'This is Eleanor.'

Jane and Lisbon both looked at her enquiringly.

'Eleanor...?' Lisbon repeated.

'Immer...son,' I replied slowly, biting my lip.

'Eleanor Immerson... as in Jacob Immerson? As in Red John?'

'Mhm...'

While Jane remained a little foggy as to what was going on, Lisbon stared. Eleanor raised the hand that wasn't occupied having its sleeve chewed, to wave sheepishly.

'Van Pelt?' Lisbon muttered through a smile and wave at Eleanor.

I got the message and told Eleanor to go and sit back in the bull pen for a bit. She nodded and left, taking up her middle seat on Jane's couch again. When I turned back, Lisbon was giving me a 'Please do explain' look.

'We found her in the psychiatric hospital in Fresno.'

'And? Why is she here?'

'Uhh... someone fill me in?' Jane asked.

'Well we did want her to stay in Fresno so that if her brother still kept an eye on her, then everything would stay as normal. But...'

'But?'

'She managed to sneak out behind us and hide away in the back of the SUV. We got half way back when we realised she was there... She didn't want to go back.'

* * *

I eventually made the connections myself, receiving no help from the two women still in heated discussion. I stuck my head out so I could see the girl sat on my couch.

Red John's sister.

Red John's sister was sat on my couch.

I quietly moved away from the break room, leaving Lisbon and Van Pelt to themselves. My eyes were fixed on the girl as I moved round into the bullpen, approaching my couch. Eleanor watched me walk up to her with a sort of nervous smile on her face.

'Patrick?' she stated simply, lowering her knees from her chin and crossing her legs.

'...How do you know my name?' I asked, stopped in my tracks.

'Grace told me...' she paused, fiddling with her sleeve. 'I heard Jacob hurt you too.'

'What?'

'My brother. Grace told me he's killed people... and he hurt you.'

I was a little confused. I wasn't really expecting her to be like this. I had planned on demanding to know where her Red John was, but I couldn't do that to a girl who sounded so innocent and caring. She was like the complete opposite of her brother. She was the yang to his yin.

'Uhh... yeah...' I replied, my voice a little quieter as I looked away from her for a moment, trying to push down the choking feelings that resurfaced every time I was taken back to that thick coppery scent that stung my nostrils and burnt my eyes.

'I'm sorry...' I heard her say quietly.

My gaze came back to meet hers just for a moment before she looked back down at her sleeve again. I lowered to my haunches, struck by her apology. She shouldn't have been the one to say sorry for the things her brother had done.

'I... I think he just got so angry and upset after mom died...' her voice picked up as she continued earnestly, 'I tried to help, I really did, but he didn't want it. That's why he sent me away. That's why he did what he did.'

'What did he do?'

'Um...he... he made me a little crazy.' A tiny flash of laughter broke her serious expression for just a moment. 'At least that's what the doctors think. I'm not crazy... at least I don't think I am.' She looked up, blank faced, her brain processing.

I was watching, listening to the small child's voice leak out of the older body.

'Eleanor, how old are you?'

Focusing on me now, 'I... I don't know. That's funny...'

After a pause, I heard Van Pelt reply softly from behind me, 'She's twenty seven.'

I briefly turned to see Lisbon and Van Pelt at the entrance to the bull pen, watching me and Eleanor.

'Why do you behave like a little girl, Eleanor?' I asked gently, 'What happened?'

'What do you mean?'

'You talk like a little girl, but you're older than that.'

'Aren't I supposed to be like this?'

She watched me, waiting, but when I didn't reply, her face fell. She began looking around. I could see her eyes watering, tears glistening.

'He didn't mean it. I know he didn't mean it. He... he loves me.'

'Eleanor...'

'Patrick?' she interrupted.

'Yes?'

'I want to play cards. Can we play cards?'


End file.
